Malachi and I
by RuthlesslyYours
Summary: What if I told you the greatest love stories ever told…were merely different chapters of the same love story. That it has aways been the same two souls seeking their happily ever after over and over again...would you believe me? Would you believe them? Born again,Love again,Part again,Was their curse...In this modern era, can they finally be together or are they truly doom forever?
1. NULLA POISON APPLES

**NULLA. Poison Apples**

 **MALACHI**

Apples.

I hate apples.

I hate them for no other reason than the symbolism they invoked. Throughout literature, apples have taken on the symbol of sin, the forbidden fruit, the start of chaos, the undoing of man. The most famous stories are that of Adam and Eve, a single apple caused them paradise and peace.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs—an apple laced with poison that caused Snow White to fall into a coma until a random man awakened her with a kiss. A happy ending, unless you knew that Snow White was Margarete von Waldeck, a sixteenth-century German countess who was banished to Brussels by her step-mother. The poison came from the King of Spain, the father of her prince, and yes, with a damn apple. But she didn't fall sleep, she died.

Then in Greek Mythology, at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Eris, the Greek goddess of strife and discord, who understandably was not invited to the wedding but lacked the rational capacity to figure out why, decided to throw a golden apple onto the table at the feast _to the most fairest one of all._ One apple, dozens of vain goddesses, and just like that a wedding was destroyed and a war began.

If I could take every bloody apple and shoot them to the moon, I would. Maybe if I'd thought about earlier then I wouldn't have been in my current situation—I wouldn't have been covered in smoke, sweat, and blood. I wouldn't have tried to save the old woman from her burning car. Burning because a chain reaction of events that began with the younger woman who was crossing the crosswalk in front of my car, and the impatient fool who ran out of the store. As he barreled into her and knocked her over her bag fell and sent a slew of apples rolling into the street. Apples her daughter then broke free of her grasp to chase after which caused the oncoming pick-up truck to swerve left and straight into the old woman's car as she was pulling out of her parking space at Spencer's Grocery Store.

The sight and sound of the accident startled the teen driver who was pulling up behind me, causing him to step on the accelerator instead of the brakes. As his car slammed into mine, my head snapped forward and smashed into the steering wheel as my seatbelt dug its way into my shoulder.

"Dude are you okay?!" The teen moron, screamed as he rushed from his car to mine.

"Help!"

"Oh my god!"

"It's on fire!"

Even though my vision was blurred I saw the car—a silver BMW—and the bloodied woman who lay unconscious inside of it, and without thinking I pulled off my seatbelt and ran towards the car. I felt nothing as I yanked on the door repeatedly while the smoke rose into my face. Even when she was in my arms and I was dragging her from the car I felt nothing. Nothing, until I looked around screaming for help, only to see, the now bruised and chipped and deformed but no longer rolling…a bunch of fucking apples.

* * *

 _"Malachi and I" is an original story of J.J. McAvoy, shared on this blog by J.J. McAvoy. Copying, duplicating, printing, publishing in any form of media including web, manipulating, transmitting or reproducing without the prior written permission of J. is strictly forbidden and would constitute a breach of copyright._

 ** _Follow me on twitter, instagram and facebook jjmcavoy_**


	2. I RIVER OF VELVET

**I. RIVER OF VELVET**

 **ESTHER**

"And because he loved her…foolishly…selfishly…unreasonably, with no regard for anyone or anything else. He reached out, clenching the hilt of his own sword and drove it through her heart...until the blade pierced through her back and into his own chest, even then it was not enough. He tightened his grip and with the last of his strength, he forced the steel through both of their hearts. And with no final words, not even a final glance, they died. By Diyala River…the end."

I finished and no one said a word, allowing me to sit down and quietly wipe the tears from my eyes. Inhaling deeply, I stared at the manuscript in my hands.

"Well?" my grandfather asked as he sat up in his chair at the head of the table. He brought his brown, wrinkled hands together and rested his gray-haired chin on them. It was something he always did when he was excited. His brown eyes looked us over as he pushed further. "Any thoughts?"

"It's beautiful," I whispered, petting the paper as it were a child.

"You've got to be kidding me," Howard grumbled as he took the red pen from behind his ear and tossed it onto the manuscript. "It's the same as the last book, hell, all of his books are exactly the same."

"They are not." I snapped back.

"They kinda are," Li-Mei added flipping her bleach-blonde hair over her shoulder. When I glared at her she placed her hand over her heart. "Don't get me wrong! I love _,_ I mean _love_ his books, but they're all kind of the same at this point. When I pick up a Malachi Lord novel I'm doing it because I want my feelings to be wretched and to have a good ugly cry. I'm not expecting something else."

"See—"

"Let me clarify." My grandfather cut Howard off before he dared to speak another blasphemous word. "Will this new novel outsell his last novel?"

"No," Howard said confidently. "Because he has devoted readers like you two, he'll sell the same amount of copies."

"He picks up new readers each time he publishes a book!" I reminded him.

Howard rolled his hazel eyes at me. "And loses readers with each new book…"

"He—"

"Correction." He cut me off. "He doesn't _lose_ readers, it's more that they're slow to buy or even read his books now for the same reason Li-Mei said; they need to be in the mood for another heartbreak novel. They know how it will end so they put off reading. If we published…" He glanced down at the title page but there wasn't one. It just said _By_ _Malachi Lord_.

"River of Velvet." I titled it.

"Oooh…nice! I like it," Li-Mei whispered to herself with a smile.

"River of Velvet. Catchy. Good for next year's Valentine's Day release." Grandpa nodded to himself.

"I guess we're going forward…" Howard said and I could feel him getting ready to piss all over my cheerios. "Valentine's Day, where he'll sell just about the same amount of copies, give or take a couple thousand, end up on all the usual lists, maybe another B-movie deal, then never read or spoken about again, with the exception of Esther."

"And the blog which has how many fans?" I questioned him.

"Yes, fine. You and the other 1.5 million fans—"

"Two million fans." I cut in looking to my grandpa. "Every day I get dozens of messages from fans all over the world. If your question is 'will he sell?' The answer is yes because he always sells. Even if he wrote a dinner menu I'd buy it and read. We all know and have met authors and aspiring authors that would kill for his success."

"Howard." Li-Mei coughed, unsubtly poking fun at Howard's novel…the one he's been writing apparently since the Stone Age. Howard glared and I smiled as she reached for Penohxi Publishing House mug. "Sorry, you were saying?"

I loved her.

"Then it's settled." Grandpa nodded as he leaned back and adjusted his ascot. Yes, his _I'm-sophisticated_ ascot, before giving us our marching orders. "Howard, have sales print two thousand less than normal."

"Two thousand?" I frowned.

Howard grabbed his pen and nodded to himself. "That way if he doesn't surpass the normal amount we aren't stuck giving out less. And if he does for some strange reason we could use that as a marketing ploy…yeah okay. Any luck with getting him to do the signed copies?"

"Keep dreaming." Grandpa laughed before looking to his left. "Li-Mei, production is key for this. Everything from the front cover to the actual page headers should have that middle-eastern/Arabian nights feel to it. Esther, promotion, promotion, promotion. I want the hype for this book to be like the second coming."

Nodding, I tried not to cringe at the fact that my grandfather just used the word "hype."

"How soon should I start marketing? I actually think we should start a week before Valentine's Day."

"Hmm…why?" He stroked his beard as he watched me.

"Half of the Valentine's Day readers want something sweet to have that lovey-dovey feel. So they might buy it and read it later. A week after Valentine's Day people are annoyed with anything pink or red and they rather ready a mystery or a thriller. But in the week before we get those who are excited for romance. They want that gut-wrenching love story, plus we'll also get the Singles Appreciation Day crowd—"

"The what?"

"The single people unable to find another person to buy them chocolate and tell them how beautiful they are so they stay home drinking wine, listening to their old-school Chinese mother yell about how all other mothers are sending out wedding invites for their daughters but all you talk about is work…." Li-Mei rambled off and I kicked her foot.

"Anyway, it's just a better week, I think. What about your sales?" I looked to Howard.

"Six months is pushing it but we can get it done," he replied, his hazel eyes focused solely on me, a small smile on his lip. "But on the marketing and foreign distribution side, it will be tight. I know how meticulous you are with this author."

"I got it." I nodded. "I'll start today if that's okay with you."

Grandpa pursed his lips to the side. "Fine but don't step on Shannon's toes, marketing is her department, not yours. Make sure to clear everything with her even though she's away."

I wanted to remind him that since I was his granddaughter—aka the heir to the Penohxi Publishing House—I technically worked in all departments like he did. But I simply gave him a two-finger salute. "Yes, sir. I know."

"Good. Bring them in." He tapped the glass right in front of him.

Rising, we all put our manuscripts on the table and only then were we allowed to pick up our cellphones and tablets from the center of the table.

The reason there were only four us, five if you counted Shannon Kelly who was currently on maternity leave, was because of what happened last year with Malachi Lord's novel being leaked online. My grandfather, Alfred Benjamin Noëlle, was a calm and simple man. He liked fishing, listening to old records, reading by the lake, and in the twenty-two years I'd been alive, I'd never heard him curse once. But that day, if we were being recorded live in a studio the number of expletive bleeps that would have been needed would have put any rapper to shame. And because of that incident, he'd structured this new protocol whereby each major author got a certain group comprised of someone from each department who would read the paper copied manuscript in the conference room only once and never again unless they worked with editing or translation like I did.

"Li-Mei Zhou!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin and tripped over her chair when my grandfather called her name. Her brown eyes grew wider because no one ever called her full name outside of her parents and grandmother, let alone yell it like he did.

"Sir…"

He snickered to himself grinning like an old cat. "Do you enjoy working here?"

"Yeah… I mean. Yes, sir. I do." She stood straighter and spoke much more seriously.

"Then don't worry about your mother. Just keep reminding her you're happy. I'm sure there's some lucky person out there for you."

"Thank you, sir." She must have fallen into default mode hearing her name called like that because she even gave him a respectful bow before moving to the door. Howard held the door for me waiting but I shook my head and he glanced between my grandfather and me and took the hint to leave.

"Aww grandpa you're so sweet." I teased as I skipped over to him.

"Either you want something or you did something." He crossed his arms waiting. "Out with it."

"Why aren't you sweet to me? You do realize it's going to be me taking care of you when you're old right?"

"I'm already old." He frowned at me as I leaned on the back of the seat.

"Psshh…you don't look a day over seventy-five." I waved him off.

"I shouldn't! I'm seventy-three!"

Seeing him snap at me so quickly made laugh which made him frown again before laughing too.

"See don't you just love me?" I leaned in with a grin.

"What do you need, Esther?"

I didn't need anything but I wasn't sure how to say it.

"Whatever it is you can tell me…unless you're thinking about moving in with that boy."

I froze, staring at him as he stuffed the manuscripts into his bag.

"You know?"

"The whole house knows, with the boy making goo-goo eyes at you all the time it's so obvious I'm insulted you thought I was stupid enough to not notice."

"Accept my apologies then," I said with a sigh.

Howard and I were dating. That was supposed to be my big reveal and he just went and gutted it. We'd been dating for about a year since I'd started working here actually.

"Accept my rejection then."

"What?"

"If you want to date him that's your business but no granddaughter of mine is shacking up with anyone!" he replied standing to his feet.

"Grandpa!"

"Esther!" He mocked and I should have learned not to do that by now.

I sighed. "Grandpa, I'm twenty-two. I'm not asking for permission, I'm asking for—"

"Help." He cut in as he stood in front of me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Howard is twenty-eight, he's pretty much settling down, ready to enclose you in his white picket fence, which would be okay if that was what you wanted. But if you wanted that, Esther, you would have told me about him, and if he was the right one he would have told me himself—"

"I told him not to."

"It doesn't matter, peanut. He still should have been man enough to do so. Lastly, if you really wanted this you would have started off with ' _Grandpa, I love him_.' Not ' _Grampa, I'm twenty-two_.'"

I opened my mouth to say the words but nothing came out. Why were three little words so hard to say? I wasn't even looking at Howard and I still couldn't say it.

"I'll be the bad guy alright?" He patted my shoulder. "You told me and I said no. Besides, who else is going to take care of me when I'm old if you moved out?"

I snickered. "You're already old."

He gasped letting go of my shoulders. "How dare you? I'll have you know I don't look a day over seventy-five."

I laughed and he flicked my nose. He didn't say anything else about the matter, he simply walked towards the door and held it open for me.

"Now get back out there and earn my money."

"Oh back to boss-mode. Sure-sure. I'm going," I said as I grabbed my things and walked towards the door. "I'll even walk you to your office old man."

"I remember when your legs would wobble like a giraffe and you'd fall onto your bottom and sit there confused and crying." He shook his knees outside the office for everyone to see.

"Grandpa!" I grabbed his arm.

"Esther!" He mocked again.

Tightening my grip on him I walked faster, pulling him along which caused him to snicker like he always did. Expect this time his snickering was interrupted by a cough. He coughed so badly we had to stop for a second and I broke apart a little just staring at him.

"Don't give me that look…ahuh!" He coughed once more as he rubbed his throat.

"What look?"

"That." He pointed to his long slim finger directly between my eyes. "Your big, brown, sad puppy dog eyes like I'm going somewhere. Come on, you're walking me, ain't you?"

"We're here," I said and like the hostess of Wheel of Fortune I lifted my hands and directed his attention to the glass door with his name etched onto it. "I'll get back to earning my paycheck now. Namaste, Rafi." I nodded my head and clasped my hands together as my grandfather's personal assistant, Rafi Patel, rushed to the door wearing his classic suspenders and bow tie, which upon first hearing it you'd think was kind of dorky, but the moment you saw his muscular build, hazel eyes, and his half-million Instagram followers, you'd want a pair of green and white striped suspenders too.

"Namaste, Esther. Sir, your coffee…"

"Coffee?" I looked to my grandfather. "Your doctor told you to cut caffeine."

"It's decaf." Rafi tried to save him. "Plus it's actually more milk than coffee so no doctors were bribed while I got this."

"Shoo! Go, leave me, my coffee, and my assistant, in peace."

I put my hand up and backed away causing Rafi to laugh as they walked into his massive, glass corner office. Inside, every award he'd won from the Oscars to the Tonys hung on the wall. Not to mention the signed first copies of all his authors, and the photos; him marching for Civil Rights when he was young as well as his filming awards he had won all over the world. Every time stepped inside that office my grandfather disappeared and the gravitas of who he was—Alfred Benjamin Noëlle, the famed writer, filmmaker, producer, director, activist, philanthropist, and icon—truly hit me.

 _'Bye.'_ Rafi mouthed and clasped his hands together, nodding his head to me once before clicking the remote that caused the glass walls to frost over making it impossible to see into his office.

"You speak Hindi too?" Li-Mei rolled out from behind her desk in the center of the office. The hive we called it…because it was actually designed to look like a hive, thankful it wasn't bright yellow, but made of glass.

"Hindi, Mandarin, Turkish, Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, Arabic, Hebrew, Russian…keep in mind where still in Asia!" Howard smiled as he came over hand and handed me a bottle of iced tea.

"Wo de tian na!" (Oh my god!) Li-Mei exclaimed as her mouth dropped opened. "How did I not know that? Honestly, I'm kinda hurt. Impressed, but hurt."

"Yīzhǒng yǔyán yǒngyuǎn bùgòu." (One language is never enough.) I shrugged smiling as Howard looked at us, waiting for a translation but I simply drank my tea.

"Guys…what did you say?"

"Aren't you part Chinese? How do you not know even the simplest Mandarin?" Li-Mei grinned and slid back behind her desk and popped a green cake pop from her Gwen Stefani Harajuku jar into her mouth.

"First of all, I'm half Japanese, half German. Secondly, I know neither languages because my parents were born and raised here in New York. Luckily, maybe my girlfriend will teach me," he said proudly while I choked mid-swallow causing me to cough so hard I had to grip the edge of Li-Mei's desk.

"You—"

"I'm fine," I said quickly glaring at him. "Excuse us, Li-Mei."

"Don't mind me I'll be here pretending to not be interested," she replied chewing the cake in her mouth.

Ignoring her, I walked towards the conference room we'd just left and over towards the window that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge.

"You can't go around saying that." I hollered at him the moment he closed the door.

"Saying what? That you're my girlfriend? Everyone knows, Esther—"

"That's not the point. This is work."

"Come on? How long are you going to play the 'we're at work' card?—"

"For as long as _we're at work_!" I clasped my mouth shut trying not yell. "Everyone knows that I'm here because of my grandfather—"

"It's been a year. Everyone can see you aren't some entitled brat. The fact that there is now a foreign distribution floor and not a foreign rights desk is mostly because of you."

"Exactly! There is more on my plate now. More I want to do—"

"And being my girlfriend impedes that how?"

I stopped unsure of how to reply. And so, like an idiot, I stared at Howard—the Yale grad, the golden boy from a good family, the Mr. Nice Guy who had been sweet, kind, and patient, who was allergic to cats but still left food out for his neighbor's when it came over, the guy who was staring at me waiting for an answer that I owed him but was too much of a chicken to say

"Esther, are we breaking up? Is that what's happening?"

I put my hands behind my back and hung my head. "I don't know…sorry no… I mean…I'm… yeah. I don't want to move in. I don't want to settle down. There are so many things I need to do and I need to do them in my own space."

"I'm sorry too." He sighed, walked over to me and wrapped me in his arms while I stood there. "I shouldn't have rushed you. We'll keep taking things slow, okay?"

When he pulled back I was too dumbfounded to speak so I just nodded.

"Good. I'll see you later." He kissed my lips quickly then turned around and walked out.

I walked out towards the hive as he walked towards the elevator to go down to his floor and placed my bag on the desk.

"Did you break up?" she asked sitting up and handing me a cake pop.

"I don't know." I frowned as I took it and sat down slowly.

She came around and leaned on my desk. "What do you mean you don't know? One usually know these things."

"Apparently not. Should I be happy or sad?" I asked taking a bite, and the moment I did I wanted the whole velvet cake. "This is good and I should be happy, right?"

"Rule of thumb, if you have to ask whether or not you're happy, you're not." She sat up and then sighed dramatically. "But what do I know? I'm just a twenty-eight-year-old single woman in New York."

"Successful." I added with a smile. "You are a successful, beautiful, single woman in New York."

"Right?" She grinned. "Look at this skin? Not a blemish anywhere. And not a single student debt is left for me to pay off…I even like my apartment."

"We are not worthy." I bowed to her and she laughed.

"I like you, Noëlle."

Grinning I put my hand over my chest. "Aww, thank you but my love life is already complicated—"

"Shut up." She giggled, shaking her head as she looked on her laptop screen and I did the same though I couldn't really focus.

For some reason I felt like I was missing something. Like there was this big blind spot in myself and the more I tried to figure it out the blinder I became. When I looked around, everyone at Penohxi Publishing House seemed to have their head on straight. Everyone was talented, the best of the best. English and Humanities majors from Ivy League schools, with larger-than-life dreams. Then there was just me, Esther Noëlle. My only two skills were reading comparison and languages. I know that alone was great. I knew I most people barely spoke two. However, I always felt like…like I wasn't whole. Like I wasn't really living but merely going through the motions. Whenever I wanted to go I found myself staying put like I was waiting…waiting for what though?

Li-Mei was twenty-eight and after graduating from Princeton she backpacked all across Europe taking the most breathtaking photos, of which she later published in multiple magazines before joining us only two weeks ago. She was single but not because she was too busy traveling or too beautiful, but because she was searching for _the one_. She had almost everything she wanted and her life as all laid out for her.

Rafi Patel, my grandfather's personal assistant, was a recent film graduate who'd won the honor to shadow and be mentored by my grandfather for a year. Penohxi was created only twenty-three years ago and my grandfather's dream to bring more diverse stories and backgrounds to the forefront of entertainment had exploded faster than even he'd expected. We were now ranked alongside Google and Facebook as one of the happiest places to work. Working here was every English Major's dream job, and to get here you needed to be the best.

But I didn't go to any Ivy League, instead, I went to NYU.

I got avenge grades: A's and B's.

I'd never traveled anywhere outside of New York, California, and New Jersey. And those were with all for work with my grandfather when I was younger. Everywhere I looked people all around me had a goal they were running towards and I was just following my grandfather.

 _You've got FanMail!_

The crown icon on my computer screen blinked.

"I wish," I muttered to myself as I opened it and read AngstLover4Lord's message.

 _Dear Mr. Lord,_

 _First off your name is so cool! Has anyone every told you that?_

"Yeah like almost every other day," I replied softly still reading.

 _I know you like to keep a low profile and I'm not even sure if this message will get to you but I just needed to tell you…your book changed my life. Seriously, I've always been so depressed and being shy makes it hard for me to speak up most times. But after reading '_ Smile at Her _' and '_ Duchess of Hope _' I realized how fleeting life can be and why we need to speak or die with our words. Today some girls at school were trying to get me to do their homework for them again. When I told them no, you should have seen their faces. It's a small step but I'm sure by the time I go to college next year I'll have it down pat like Duchess of Marina. Thank you and never stop writing. I'll always keep reading._

 _Your #1 fan from Austria,_

 _Franziska._

"Wow." I had to fight back tears. I was a crybaby, yeah, I know, but it was so sweet, and I completely understood her.

I wanted to reply to her personally and let her know that I'd gotten her message and would send it off but I'd be here all day if I tried to reply to his letters. Instead, the email sent out the automated message which read:

 _Thank you for taking the time to write to Malachi Lord and for being such an amazing fan of his work. He truly enjoys getting these messages! We will forward it and I'll let you know when he's_ _gotten it. Until then, join us at Lord Nation where fellow fans can share their love, support and overall thoughts of each novel._

 _Esther Noëlle,_

 _Translation Editor._

 _Penohxi Publishing House._

 _Lord Nation Creator/Blogger._

"Hold the elevators!" I jumped at the sound of Rafi's voice, and I rose to my feet as he ran towards the door after my grandfather.

"Grandpa?" I called out but he wasn't listening. I wasn't even sure he'd seen me. With his ear to the phone, he put his jacket on and got into the elevator. Rafi tried to get on after him but he shook his head.

"Rafi, what is it?" I asked as he rushed back to the hive and reached for the projector's remote to turn on the television so that it would reflect on the glass of my grandfather's office.

On screen we watched as a tall man with what looked like a tire iron broke the glass window of silver BWM, which was one of at least a dozen cars involved in the accident but it didn't look like New York.

Smoke was coming out of the car and he pulled and pulled until the door budged open, then he lifted an elderly woman out of the car like bloody Superman. The camera zoomed in on his ashy, bloody, scratched up face as he yelled for help.

"What's wrong with the volume?" Rafi banged the remote on his hand until he turned to us frustrated. "Forget about that. Guys, that's Malachi Lord!"

"Shut up!" I yelled as we all moved in closer to see.

"He's bloody hot man!" Diane gasped and then giggled. "I thought he was some old geezer who your grandfather knew, Esther."

"Yeah," I whispered staring at the replay over and over again unable to take my eyes off him. He wasn't hot…he was… _beautiful_. And to say that as he was bruised, cut up, and sweaty made me wonder what he looked like every day. It made me wonder if his eyes really were that blue.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"

"Ah!" Everyone covered our ears as the volume blasted on.

"Sorry!" Rafi said quickly turning it down enough for us to hear the anchor speak.

"As you can see, Malachi Lord, the award-winning and best-selling poet and novelist, who has all but avoided the public eye, refusing, interviews, photos, even signings, leaped to the aid of an elderly woman who was trapped in her car. We have reports that despite the fact that he appeared fine during this ordeal, he fell unconscious due to the injuries he'd sustained only seconds after the video feed was cut. He was transferred to a local hospital where he is reportedly in a stable condition."

"How do they know it's him?" Leon asked as he chewed on the back of his pen. "I mean, come on? Romance novelist by day, superhero stud…also by day?"

Before all of us could speak our phones started to ring or beep.

It was a good question…a question everyone wanted to know. And the only two people who knew for sure if the man on screen was Malachi Lord, was Malachi Lord himself, and my grandfather, his agent, and publisher.

"I have Reader's Digest on the line asking if it's really him!"

"We say Penohxi Publishing House does not disclose any private information about our authors unless authorized to do so by said authors," I said as they moved to their desks. "Say it over and over again like canaries until you're either sick of answering the phones and tweeting or you clock out for the day."

They all stared at me and I didn't realize why until Rafi handed me a tissue. "You okay?"

I blinked a few times and sure enough water was coming out of my eyes and I had no idea why. This always seemed to happen!

"Yeah." I wiped my face quickly and tried to deflect. "So does anyone have a better idea?"

"We're canaries." Rafi nodded as he answered his phone and in a heavy Indian accent and repeated what I'd said. Everyone did so with the exception of Li-Mei, who instead of answering calls was making them. She'd dial, lift it to her ear, hang up and dial again. Panicked she started to shake as she ran her hands through her blonde hair. Her beloved velvet cake pops lay on the ground crumbled and broken.

"Li-Mei? What is it?"

She pointed to an old woman being pulled out the car. "The woman he's carrying. That's my mom!"

* * *

 _"Malachi and I" is an original story of J.J. McAvoy, shared on this blog by J.J. McAvoy. Copying, duplicating, printing, publishing in any form of media including web, manipulating, transmitting or reproducing without the prior written permission of J. is strictly forbidden and would constitute a breach of copyright._

 ** _Follow me on twitter, instagram and facebook jjmcavoy_**


	3. II PAIN AND NOVOCAINE

**II. PAIN AND NOVOCAINE**

 **MALACHI**

"I'm thinking of raising my agent fees." His voice sounded the way the movies portrayed God's voice; calm yet strong, steady but with a hint of mystery. Luckily Alfred was not God or I'd—

"A five percent raise sound good to you?"

Tilting my head towards his voice I opened my eyes and found him sitting in a chair beside me with his feet were kicked up onto the small space of the bed, and as he finished peeling his tangerine he stuck a piece between his lips. He wasn't watching me but the television across from the hospital bed.

"How much do you currently make?"

He paused and looked to me. Annoyed he shook his head and asked, "What do you do with the contracts I give you?"

"Sign the last page and give them back to you."

He sucked his teeth, he frowned. "Why do I even bother?" He muttered and continued eating.

"Guilt." I reminded him. Alfred Noëlle, great director, and the man who carried the death of my mother on his shoulders, had devoted more than twenty years of his life to watching over the son that had been left behind.

"Guilt." He repeated as he nodded to himself. Rising from his chair he gathered his stuff and walked to the door.

"How long was I out this time?"

"Twelve hours."

"Not bad." I hadn't meant for him to hear but he did and being the man he was... he had to comment.

"Do you even remember what happened?" he asked me, and in all honesty I'd been so used to coming to the hospital that I hadn't thought about…

 _Shit._ "The accident."

"Yes." He pointed to the screen and I focused on it for the first time ever, watching myself as I pulled the woman from the car, and reading my name on the banner under the video: _Malachi Lord: Hero._

"Shit!" I sat up quickly, apparently too quickly and my shoulder ached in protest. "Alfred, tell them to take it down—"

"Do I look like the Wizard of Oz? How? You chose the slowest news day in America's history to publicly expose yourself. Your days of hiding are over, Malachi."

"No…No!" I hollered, panic setting in as I watched myself on screen. The more I watched the more pain I was in until I found myself hunched over and slamming my palm over my right eye. Grinding my teeth, I tore off all the wires attached to my body before it brought in the white coats.

"Malachi!" He reached over to me but I smacked his hands away.

"I need to go home!" I snapped at him.

"Malachi you need the doctor—"

"THEY CAN'T HELP ME!"

"You can't leave like this, you need to calm down."

I didn't say anything as I rolled onto my side and focused on the chair he'd been sitting in. And slowly, far too slowly, like the calm waters after a tsunami, the pain retreated…leaving that familiar feeling of Novocaine in my mouth. As I lay there like the pitiful waste of flesh I was, I wondered for maybe the billionth time, what I had done to be cursed like this?

"Malachi?"

"She's going to find me, Alfred," I whispered despairingly. I'd made a mistake. Twenty-nine…thirty years next weekend, that's how long I'd been able to avoid her, and now with my face plastered everywhere… and all because I'd saved the old woman who for some absurd reason I'd felt bad for."

"At least the pain will end, Malachi."

"No." I blinked slowly still staring at the chair. "That's when the real pain starts."

"Maybe…maybe she'll run from you too."

"She won't be able to." It didn't work that way. I remembered the moment I got the scar over my eye time and time again. For her it was different. She couldn't remember anything. She'd experience a series of déjà-vus that she'd try to piece together until she found me. Once she did…we'd die and do it all again.

"I'll get you discharged." Listening to his voice I really wished he was God, maybe then I could demand we settle this once and for all…

Smirking at the idea I closed my eyes and whispered, "Make it ten percent, Alfred."

I didn't hear what he said in return. I waited for a few seconds before I pushed myself up from the bed and stretched out my neck. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was a suit bag courtesy of Alfred.

"I have to ask you." No one was in the room, but I spoke anyway knowing that the same God that could keep returning the memories of my past lives had to be watching, or at the very least listening. "Why bother letting me die?"

Ignoring the physical pain, I reached for the bag and entered the bathroom. "I mean, if I'm going to remember anyway, why not just make me immortal?"

Turning on the faucet I splashed water onto my face and took a deep breath before glancing up into the mirror. Seeing those blue eyes stare back at me, my eyes, yet they didn't feel like it… The white skin, the black hair…none of it felt like me with the expectation of the scar; the faint line which ran from my cheekbone through my eyelid and stopped right above my eyebrow…not just this face but every face. My face didn't feel like my face because when I looked in the mirror it sometimes changed to reflect my past lives and it was as if they were all standing right beside me and I could see them clearly, one by one.

There was the shoulder-length brown hair, green eyes, light brown skin, a turban wrapped around my head. Beside that face was my porcelain white skin, brown eyes, my black hair pulled into a topknot with a Sangtugwan to hold it in place. Beside that face, there was me with dark brown skin, brown eyes, my head shaved, and war beads around my neck. Followed by the version of me that had white skin, a thick beard, and blonde hair that was braided at the top of my head and shaved at the sides and stained with the tribal ink. The longer I stared, the more faces I saw—my faces. In different eras, it was never-ending.

Raising my fist—

"Malachi?"

I froze, my fist hovering in front of the glass. Dropping it I stripped down and changed into the jeans and the black long-sleeve shirt he'd gotten me.

"I need to go for a ride to clear my head," I said as I opened the bathroom. There were two doctors dressed in their white coats who were standing beside him.

"They wanted to check on you before you get discharged," Alfred said as he tossed the keys to my motorcycle at me. "And before you ask no else rode it, I had it delivered here on the backs of angels."

"Perfect and I'm fine," I said catching the keys before I bent down to put on my boots which were by the door.

"Mr. Lord, when you came in we ran an MRI scan on you—"

"Do I have a tumor?" I asked as I tied my laces.

"No, we—"

"Was my brain bleeding?"

"No—"

Rising I stood looking at the two men who stood in front of me. "So why am I not being discharged?"

"Mr. Lord, if you'd let us explain—"

"My brain lights up like a Christmas tree."

They looked back at each other than at me. "You know this?" The older of the two of them asked.

"Doctor, I'm sure Mr. Noëlle has given you my full medical history and in so doing you'll note that I was in and out of hospitals quite frequently as a child. Nothing is wrong with me." Nothing medicine could help anyway.

"Have you ever thought about trying to figure out why this happens?"

"Nope. And I prefer to not be a lab rat while you and every other doctor try to figure it out," I replied and nodded at Alfred as I moved to the door.

I needed to get back home. The longer I stayed out like this the greater the chance of running into _her_ became. She could have been anyone. A patient, a doctor…anyone. I'd gone to the grocery store because I wanted steak. Of course it was the primal need for food which had put me in this situation.

"Just because you've lived a thousand lives does not mean you get to be rude," Alfred muttered.

"Allow me to be rude, if not this curse comes with no perks whatsoever," I replied as I followed him towards the reception desk. I kept my distance and head down trying to be as invisible as I could be.

"Oh my gosh! Mr. Lord!"

I jumped at the feeling of a small hand on my arm and I instinctively backed away from the woman while doing my best not to look her in the eye. Instead I stared at the duck covered scrubs she wore and focused on the pattern.

"My sisters and I love your books! Will you sign mine?" she asked as she stuck a white covered book out at me.

"No," I replied stepping away from her and moving toward the exit.

"Mr. Lord is not feeling well at the moment. He was just in a car accident as you may well know so please understand." I heard Alfred kindly try to cover up for me. But I didn't care if people called me a horrible person, or if I was being rude, or an asshole. What if I signed her or anyone else's book and by some twist of fate it managed to be _her_? Their opinion of me meant little when pit against my life… _her_ life.

Just as I'd made it to the front door and I thought I was free I found a worn out copy of Sophocles' _Antigone_ at my feet. I stared at the cover and without thinking I bent down to pick it up. The moment my hand touched it so did hers. My heart stuttered and the scar burned so badly that my eyes hurt.

"Malachi Lord?" She gasped.

I could hear my heartbeat echoing. Releasing the book I tried to escape but she blocked my path.

"Wait! Sorry, I know you must have had people in your face all day but I just wanted to say—"

"Li-Mei?"

Turning at the sound of his voice, I watched as he stood beside me and spoke to… _her_.

"Mr. Noëlle. Good morning. I'm sorry I forgot you came here too!" she said. "Mr. Lord I just wanted to thank you. You saved my mother today."

I shouldn't have but I looked at her in shock. Really looked at her—her blonde hair was pulled into a bun and her brown eyes were filled with tears. It was her? Her mother?

"Your mother?" Alfred asked because I could no longer find the words to speak.

"The woman in the BMW, yeah. I just…thank you. Really. Thank you." She sniffled quickly and I tried to walk around her but she stepped into my path again. "Have we met before? I swear it's like a feeling of déjà vu."

 _It was her._

The moment I thought it, the pain came back.

Biting back the pain I glared at her. "No, we have not."

Taking the key out of my pocket I moved around her and towards the dark red motorcycle that sat in the parking lot. I was trying to figure out how to run. How to undo this before it started again? Before Li-Mei realized she hadn't just met me in this life but in almost a thousand previous lives.

"I refuse to do this again."

I'd had enough pain. Enough.


	4. III DREAMERS & INSOMNIACS:MARY-MARGARET

**III. DREAMERS AND INSOMNIACS + MARY-MARGARET BONDURANT AND FRANCIS**

 **ESTHER**

"Do you have any idea what time it is, old man?" I questioned as I flicked on the light as he came into the flat.

"Jesus Christ—ESTHER!" He hollered gripping his chest. "You almost gave me a dang heart attack!"

I couldn't help but smile. I was not letting him off the hook but I'd always wanted to do that. "Grampa, it's two a.m."

"I know, which is why I'm going to crawl into bed…" He yawned the last part as he took off his coat and ascot.

"Oh no you don't." I leaped off the seat and ran in front of him before he could move to the stairs. "What happened with Malachi Lord?"

He groaned. "Esther."

"Grandpa." I crossed my arms and waited.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about me? Like helping me to bed or something?"

"You said the moment I helped you to bed would be the last time you ever got out of bed. Which, now that I think about it, is a _horrible_ thing to say to a ten-year-old."

"Noted." He nodded as he tried to walk around me again.

"Grandpa, seriously!" I frowned trying to give him my puppy dog eyes while pouting. But he pushed my head back with his index finger.

"That look has no effect when you try so hard. Move it." His voice much more serious now and so I moved but I didn't give up.

"Grandpa, you know why I love Malachi Lord's books?" I asked him and he stopped mid-step to hear me out. I'd never given an explanation before and he'd never asked. "I love them because the pain he puts his characters through allows me to live optimistically. Mom abandoned me before I was even a week old and my father is dead. I continually feel like I'm failing to live up to some obscure greatness, and just as everything is bubbling to the top, just as I start to panic and want to hide away in my room forever, Malachi Lord releases a new book. I read it and reread it, sobbing over the pages, and you know I'm a crybaby, I cry at the most random things, but I never sob, never really weep, until I read his books. Afterward, I take a deep breath and smile, because I get to live on even though the characters died. What am I going to do in the future if Malachi Lord stops writing? Oh, the horror!" I added the last bit as I placed the back of my hand over my forehead and tilted my head upwards like the women in those old Hollywood movies did.

When he didn't say anything I had to look back at him. He was staring at me with those old brown eyes of his. "Put your hand down."

I did so immediately and when I did he flicked my forehead.

"Ouch!" I flinched moving back. "Grandpa!'

"Esther." He mocked me even rocking his head. "What are you going to do in the future if Malachi Lord stops writing? I ought to kick you in the rear. What kind of question is that? You will live like the seven billion other people on this planet and you will be the bringer of your own happiness and optimism. Not a book. Not a man. But you."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "Wait, why am I being lectured? Plus you're the one who told me to be passionate about the arts."

"The _arts_. Plural. Not a single author or book. This is how I know you're not ready to take over the publishing house. You'd probably turn it into the Malachi Lord foundation. Huh!" He huffed eyeing me up and down before heading up the stairs.

I stood there dumbfounded for a second. Not a single question I'd wanted to ask was answered and worst of all... _I_ got lectured, and the evil eye too, as if I'd done something wrong. My shock shifted to amazement and my amazement to amusement. Nodding to myself, I clapped my hands together and then turned to the stairs.

"One of these days, Grandpa I'm going to…to…to figure whatever it is that you do to make me forget all my questions!" I hollered up at him.

"Good luck!" He yelled back and he laughed so hard he started to cough. But before I could ask if he was alright he shouted, "I'm fine. You gotta be quicker than that."

"You gotta be quicker than that." I mocked under my breath making a face at his now closed door.

"I heard that!"

"No way," I whispered backing up and tiptoeing back to my room. _Why was I tiptoeing?_ _God, I was so lame!_ I could legally drink, get married, and go to war in every country in the world and yet I still felt like a kid playing grown up. With a sigh, I headed back towards my room behind the stairs. I dragged my feet across the bright red Persian rug and crawled into my futon-styled bed opposite the massive windows that overlooked the city.

"Ahhh." I moaned happily wiggling under the sheets. The downstairs bedroom was meant to be the master bedroom. However, when I was four, I'd always came down to sleep in my grandpa's room…not on his bed but on my pillow by the window. Every time I was high up on a bed I ended up falling off. When I was ten, a certified big kid, my grandpa gave me his room. And now I could look out at the city lights which looked like stars once I got really sleepy.

 _Like now…_ I could feel my eyelids getting heavier when all of sudden the sound of

Beethoven's _Für Elise_ began to play softly. I listened feeling as if the bed and I were spinning, drifting, floating, and just as it was getting good it stopped and it felt as if I were being abruptly pulled out of the sky by my ankles and back to the ground. Sitting up, I picked up my phone from the wood frame of the bed that was just thick enough to hold my laptop and phone. Looking at the screen I saw that I had not only missed Li-Mei's call but also her text…

"Are you up?"

"No…because no one but doctors, 911 operators, and cops should be up at this hour. Goodnight," I replied and no sooner had I leaned back did Beethoven's Bagatelle start to play again. Groaning I kicked my feet out as I answered.

"You better be dying," I said into the phone.

"I think I'm in love," she said, speaking in Mandarin, not English.

"With whom?" I sat up, the idea of sleep was now erased from my mind.

"Guess?"

"I suck at this game just tell me." I was excited now.

"Fine. But only because I'm excited." She paused.

"Well?"

"I wanted to let the suspense build."

Rolling my eyes I laid back down. "You do that but fair warning while the suspense is building I might fall asleep."

"Fine. Gosh. It's Malachi Lord."

I froze, unsure of what to say.

"Silence is not the reaction I was expecting, Esther."

"Sorry…" I started to drift off but caught myself. "Malachi Lord? As in the author Malachi Lord?"

"New York is a big place but I doubt there are many who share the same."

She had a point. "I just don't understand, how can you be—?"

Her laughter cut me off. "Esther you're so naïve and sweet sometimes it's funny. Of course I don't _love_ him. I just mean I have a crush on him. Like a huge heart churning crush. And I've been trying to cyberstalk him, you know, to get more information on him, but there isn't much and your fansite is down."

It took me a second to process…I really was that tired. It was then that all the questions I'd wanted to ask my grandfather came back into my mind. "Wait. My site is down?!"

I sat up quickly grabbing my laptop again.

"Really your site that's what you're worried about I—"

"Li-Mei! It's not down! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Are you sure you have the right link?"

"Forget about the damn site! My love life is evolving!"

I took a deep breath closing the laptop. "Fine, rewind. You met Malachi Lord today? What happened? What did he say to you? I bet he's really nice—"

"He's a total asshole." She snapped. "And a bit weird…he barely even made eye contact with me. He was like this wounded wolf—if you got too close he'd bite your head off."

Everything I'd pictured my favorite author to be like had just been incinerated in two sentences. _No, wait…_

"Well in his defense he did just rescue your mother from a burning car. He was probably just injured and dealing with the stress of it all."

"Maybe…" She trailed off. "A few nurses were fans and asked for his autograph, apparently he said no and walked away."

"Well…" I didn't have an excuse for that one. "Wait, then why do you love him—I mean have a crush on him?"

"Esther," she said like she couldn't believe I was asking. "First, he is so handsome. Even more so in person. He's muscular but not like a meat head, so I guess more fit than muscular. I just wanted to reach out and touch his pecs. Oh, and by the way, he glares with those sultry blue eyes like he knows you know. He's so handsome he could totally…"

"Secondly?" I cut in before she went down that rabbit hole.

"Oh, right…secondly he saved my mom. And thirdly he saved my mom from a burning car like Superman. And fourthly—"

"Why did you say he saved your mom like it was an afterthought?" I laughed then remembered I hadn't asked about her mother. "How is she a? Are you in Jersey now with her?"

"Why do you think I'm speaking Mandarin?"

"Li-Mei it is an ungodly time in the morning, does it seem like I'm functioning enough to think right now?"

"I'm speaking in Mandarin," she went on as if I hadn't said anything, "so that my mother, who is in her room now, will hear parts of our conversation and be satisfied that I have Chinese friends."

"Li-Mei…I'm black."

"She doesn't know that," she said it happily and I had to laugh. "Seriously though, you'd think a woman who just had a near death experience would be more worried about herself. Nope! Instead she's using this as motivation to get me married, because apparently if she died I'd be all alone with my cats who, when I die of old age or of depression or both, will turn on me and start to eat my face because no one would realize that I'd died!"

I held back the laughter that was fighting to break free. With my hand over my mouth I managed to say, "You're making that up."

"Oh, that was actually her being kind. When I was twenty-four, we went back to Nanjing in China, for what I thought was a funeral for my uncle…guess what happened?"

"There was no funeral?"

"There was no uncle!" She hollered and I couldn't help it.

I laughed so hard the tears rolled down my cheeks.

"No uncle. No funeral. Just my great aunts, my mom's old friends, their sons and me, for this big, weird matchmaking ceremony."

"Your mother is a savage."

She laughed. "Yup, a trait I inherited. Since then I've refused to keep my hair black and I only speak English whenever I'm around her in protest. Now is just a treat because she almost died. "

 _Are all mother-and-daughter relationships a battle of wills like this?_

"Which is why Malachi Lord is also my perfect husband."

"You've lost me again."

"He has everything I like in my guys—"

"You said he was an ass!"

"Exactly!" she replied and now my head hurt.

Shifting onto my side I sighed and said, "Explain."

"All girls like bad boys. It's the truth. Howard is nice and all but oh my god, he's like a puppy—"

"Hey! Puppies are cute!" I pouted.

"Then why did you break up with him?"

I had no response to that and it was annoying. I had broken up with Howard but that was only because I wasn't sure what I wanted and I didn't like the idea of just having him on standby. I didn't want to jerk him around. However, he, didn't seem to get it and had simply said that he'd give me space…though he still texted me daily.

"Exactly. Cute is nice but sexy is better." She gloated. I didn't need to see her face to know she was probably grinning from ear to ear. "Malachi…he's not a puppy. He's got that whole mystery to him. Like why does he live in places like Ho Ho Kus, New Jersey—"

"I'm sorry, where?" I asked thinking my mind hadn't translated correctly.

"Ho Ho Kus, New Jersey. Let me guess, you haven't heard of it?

The name rang a bell but I had no idea as to why.

When I didn't speak she continued. "Yeah I grew up there, the Chihohokies Indian tribe say that Ho Ho or the Hohokes…"

"Is that what they call the sound the tree bark makes when the wind blows?"

"Yeah. So you've been there?"

No. I hadn't I didn't even know how I knew that. _Had I read it somewhere?_ Maybe. But it was a weird thing to remember.

"Esther?"

"Huh? Sorry?" I shook my head clear. "Malachi—hot, mysterious, I'm following…well not really but still I'm here."

"Are you really that tired?" she asked but before I could once more remind her of what time she kept talking. "Anyway, he's got this bad boy edge I like, but in reading his books you can tell he's sensitive. Well…he at least knows how to get a girl going."

"Li-Mei."

"He's also not Chinese."

I frowned at that. "What's wrong with being Chinese?"

"Nothing! But it will annoy my mother! And spare me from seeing the smug look that she would have plastered on her face for the rest of her life if I end up marrying and I quote 'nice Chinese doctor or lawyer with a good family.'…"

"So you're in love with Malachi Lord because he's the perfect way to spite your mother?"

"Exactly! With Malachi I can rebel, but she won't be able to reject him because he's her savior!"

"You are a terrible person."

"You have no idea how crazy a mother can make you-shit I'm so sorry!"

"No." I laughed though it wasn't that funny. However, I didn't want to make her feel bad and changed the subject. "I like your plan. Plus, it's great story Li-Mei. The beautiful woman who searches for love in a modern world. The mother who wishes that love to come from their own history. The man, who saves them both, one in body, the other in heart."

 _I'd definitely read that._

 ** _A few days later_**

 **MALACHI**

"Yes, Alfred?" I answered as I placed the phone on the bronzed granite countertop of the kitchen and grabbed the box cutter to open the final box.

"Normally I'd scold you…" He coughed and it wasn't a normal cough, it was the type of cough that made people flinch because you were sure it was painful. "Ah…this gosh darn cough. Sorry, what was I saying?"

I put the box cutter down and lifted the phone instead of taking it off speaker.

"I'd forewent scoldment?"

"You do realize that neither of those words are used in common vernacular. In fact, I'm not sure _scoldment_ is a word at all."

There were many things I liked about Alfred Noëlle and until this very moment I assumed his directness was evenly distributed among all aspects of his life. But I now realized that he, like everyone else, was well equipped to be bold and direct towards others yet unable to do the same with himself. I was unsure of what to say so decided to say nothing at all.

"Who would have known your silence would be more annoying than your actual comebacks."

I smirked at that and walked towards the window. "I've finally finished moving."

"Finally? It's only been three days. And I hired the movers. Did you even unpack anything?"

"I'm not an invalid, Alfred. I'll have you know that I unpacked the coffee maker all by myself." Well, I was technically in the process of doing so, but he didn't need to know that. I glanced out at the green trees that surrounded the house on all sides and found myself somewhat disappointed by the lack of colors despite the fact that it was nearly fall.

"Of all places, why Montana?"

"It was the last state that came to my mind," I told him. "And I now that I know who and where she is…I'm freer to roam around more on a different time zone."

"Are you sure Li-Mei is _her_?"

"Yes." I didn't have to think about it. The connection I felt as we nearly touched. It was her. "It all makes sense…the way we met again. The impractical story of it all which could start a whole new romance, and I, in a moment of weakness—"

"Humanity." He corrected.

"Still weakness." Humanity may be why we kept making the same mistakes over and over again. "The cliché of it all—I save the mother of the woman who not only works in the same publishing house that I write under, but is on the team that manages my work and as such is able to find out where I am. And in rushing to her mother's side, we coincidentally and serendipitously met at the doors of the local hospital just as I was attempting to leave and she was attempting to enter…and thus the tragedy begins."

"Unless you move to Montana?"

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Unless I make an effort not to fall in love with her this time, to put forest, rivers, and mountains between us."

"You do realize we have planes now?"

I rolled my eyes as I sat on the cream colored couch. "Normally I'd scold—"

"Not funny."

And while his reply was amusing, but I could no longer give him time to avoid his fears. "How much longer do you have, Alfred?"

Silence.

"I was doctor in four of my past lives. I know that cough is not just a cough."

He snorted. "Four out of a thousand is horrible statistic."

"Says the man with tuberculosis in this era of _modern_ medicine."

Silence again. And I didn't mind silence. In fact, I preferred it which meant I could wait until he either hung up or spoke.

He chose to speak. "They say it's antibiotic resistant but not contagious. However…."

"In a man your age it will be fatal."

He exhaled as if in relief. "The doctors here want to try all these new drugs and whatnot. Part of me said forget it because I wasn't going to be anybody's guinea pig. But then my granddaughter…" he laughed with joy at the thought of her. "She comes home crying, and though I'm used to her crying fits, I still gave her my attention and listened as she complained about the hero of the latest book she was reading. She called him every name under the sun for giving up on his love after finding out he had a terminal illness. She said he should live on for love, and yadda, yadda, yadda. And at the end of her rant she hugged me and told me she loved me. I knew then that I was going to be a guinea pig."

I could feel the pain, the darkness slithering around me like a snake. I didn't want to shoulder his pain but I couldn't help it. "I'm sure you'd prepare a much more formal goodbye for me than this call, so what do you need from me, Alfred?"

"Yes," he finally said. "But let me make an excuse for it anyway."

Only Alfred. "I'm listening."

"We aren't publishing your next novel because it's boring."

I paused trying to pretend I didn't hear that but I couldn't. "I'm sorry, did you just say the tragedy that was one of my past lives is _boring_?"

"Yes," he replied and I was starting to hate this excuse. "It's only boring because it ends like your other books. Everyone knows your face right now. They will be expecting greatness from their real-life hero and we can't give them more of the same."

"So you want me to write a happily ever after? They ride off into the rainbow-filled sunset?" It was like he was mocking me. "To the rest of the world it is fictional, but to me it is an autobiography. I can't write what didn't happen!"

"I know, Malachi. I know which is why it's an excuse," he said and I relaxed slightly.

"For?"

"My granddaughter." He didn't bother to hide it any longer. "She's smart, beautiful, funny, and just odd enough that it's adorable, but most importantly she's kind, she always makes those around her smile, and….and I don't want the last time I see her or hear from her filled with… _this_. I don't want her crying over me. With me gone, and you now knowing who your past lover is, I hoped she could spend the next couples of weeks in Montana with you while I sought treatment here. She's a fan of your novels. In fact, she's a super-fan. She's the one who titles most of your novels and runs your fan page. If anyone can help you make up a happy ending it's her. And I don't want her figuring it out or meeting anyone by chance. She's not trouble, you'd hardly even notice she's there—"

"Send her when you're ready." He didn't need to explain at all. He merely had to ask. "I don't know about this book but I'll keep playing along until...you return."

"Thank you."

"I'm a man of word." No matter what lifetime, if someone of the Noëlle family needed help I'd offer it. It was my eternal debt to pay.

 **June 17th 1853-** **St. James Parish, Louisiana**

"Are you sure the lady is fine?" Philip de Noëlle asked from up above us as he held the plank of wood tightly at his side. I waited for her to answer because I knew he'd be more satisfied but she didn't say a word, and even I looked to make sure she was alright, but she merely smiled that smile of hers, her eyes glistening with excitement and jubilation.

"Mary-Margaret?" I spoke her name to get her attention, and when she blinked, her green eyes shifted to Dr. De Noëlle.

"I'm much more than fine, Sir. Thank you. You're quite kind helping us like this."

When I looked back, his white face was dumbstruck as if he figured she'd be coming to her senses by now…now that we were miles away from her home and my bondage, and hiding in a dirt ditch as we tried to make it up north.

"I'll be back at night." He reached beside himself and carefully dropped a flask of water and a basket my hands while peaches, grew behind her house. "They're for her, you hear me, boy?"

I nodded. I was more than happy to give them to her. "I'll never forget this Dr. De Noëlle. I'm forever in your debt."

He didn't say anything in reply. He didn't get the chance to. He quickly placed the plank over us and the branches over it, allowing only the slightest amount of sunlight to reach us.

"It's almost over, Francis," Mary-Margaret whispered as she rested her blonde head on my dark, bruised chest and ran her small white hands over the scars. "This life ain't the easiest we'd ever had, it may very well have been the hardest, but we'll make it. You'll see, this is the last one. Our last life."

I wanted to tell her she'd said those words before, that we'd fought the odds just like this before and lost. And yet here we were fighting once more. But I couldn't say those words 'cause her hope gave me hope. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. And the tighter I held her the more comfortable I became which is why I didn't hear them.

"You'ha dirty nigger!"

"FRANCIS!"

It happened quickly, too quickly for me to even gather my thoughts. Hands were everywhere, white hands, smacking me, beating me, pulling her away from me.

"FRANCIS!" She screamed but I didn't see her, though I tried to. I tried to protect my head, I tried to see her, to make sure they weren't hurting her. It was her scream next that reassured me she'd be okay. "DADDY PLEASE! DADDY! STOP! FRANCIS!"

Master Bondurant was an evil man to just about everyone, but even evil men loved their daughters, so I figured Mary-Margaret wouldn't die here. I didn't think about the pain. In fact I'd lost the ability to hear anything, which was a shame, cause I wanted to hear her at least. I prayed I'd get to see her face one more time before I went…and that prayer was answered when the noose came around my neck and I was being dragged across the forest floor before being pulled. That's how I saw her, her face bright red due to all her screaming and tears. Her younger brother, Adam, was holding her back as she kicked and fought to get to me, while her elder brother spat into my face. I wanted to say _"Mary-Margaret stop fightin' 'em!"_ as there wasn't anything she could or say or do but hurt herself at this point but I couldn't on account of the rope…they hadn't tied it right, or maybe they did and wanted me to suffer, cause it felt more like my throat was closin' in than my neck breakin'.

"FRANCIS!" By her voice I was able to hear again, fight on longer.

"He ain't even human, Mary!" Adam shook her but she didn't stop, not 'til she was free and then she ran to me…stubborn to the very end that one was.

She grabbed her father's fallen pistols and pointed one towards Adam and the other towards her father.

"Let him go, Daddy!" Her face was streaked with dirt.

"MARY!" Master Bondurant called out to her in shock. "Mary, this ain't you. What it do to you? Mary…"

"DADDY, LET HIM GO! I ain't gonna miss…just like you taught me."

Master Bondurant grunted and pushed her brother out of way so that he could pull the rope tighter.

"NO!" She screamed and pointed both guns at him, causing Adam to charge after her in anger, which was never good for someone who wasn't bright. He took the butt of his rifle and hit her as hard as he could, which for someone his size, was much harder than he should have. Her blonde hair spun as she recoiled from the blow and she fell face forward into the dirt right under me as the guns fell from her hands.

"Mary! Mary-Margaret!" Master Bondurant hollered as he let go of the rope and I fell to the ground. I saw red in the pool of her blonde hair among the dirt and grass. "What have you done?! Adam, what have you done! Mary! Mary!"

"What is this?" Dr. De Noëlle came riding in on horseback. "Is this from the riot?"

"Riot?"

"A bunch of niggers are rioting upstream, I was on my way to help." He lied. He was good a liar. Even I believed him. He hopped off his horse and rushed to Mary-Margaret. "Rush to my house tell my wife I need the blue vial," he said to Adam, then to Bondurant and his other son, Sam, he said, "She's going to need to be wheeled in. I need a barrow and as many sheets as possible!"

They were about to hop to it when they remember me. Their compassion and worry now gone again. How did people turn it on and off like that?

"We don't have much time! He'll bleed out soon enough! GO!"

They took satisfaction in that before running into the forest and to their horses. It was only then that Dr. de Noëlle came to me and I tried to speak again. "Save…"

"She's gone." He frowned hovering over me. "She felt nothing. But she's gone."

I think I knew that but hearing it hurt. Knowing she went first hurt.

"I'ma go."

"When and if I can, I'll bury you two together," he said to me. "You want me to pray with you?"

"I'ma go…." I said as my eyes closed. I'd meant to say I'ma going to see her again. But it he wouldn't understand anyway so it was okay.

"Ahh!" I exhaled as I found myself rolling off the couch and onto the wooden floor gasping for air. Trembling, I tried to breathe even though nothing could stop the panic and fear of dying that had crept over me.

Rolling onto my side, I curled into a ball and laid there until the pain went away and the trembling stopped. I wouldn't have known how long that took if I hadn't watched the sun go down over the trees in the window in front of me.

"Why?" I asked rising from the ground. Expecting no answer and getting none I walked back into the kitchen and took out the coffeemaker and the packet of Italian Roast coffee. In the few minutes it took for it to brew I made myself a sandwich. Then I limped from the kitchen to my bedroom which contained nothing but my bed on the dark hardwood floor and dozens of covered canvasses that were all lined up against the walls. Placing my meal on the ground next to the painting I was working on, I sat down and cleaned off my paintbrush unable look away from her green eyes.

"You didn't have to die too," I said to her as I dipped the ends of the brush into the white paint and signed not my name but the name of Francis. _You didn't have to but you stubbornly run towards me each time…this time you need to stay away._

The paintbrush snapped from the pressure of my fingers. But I kept thinking _If there is any connection between us you must break it and stay away!_

* * *

 _"Malachi and I" is an original story of J.J. McAvoy, shared on this blog by J.J. McAvoy. Copying, duplicating, printing, publishing in any form of media including web, manipulating, transmitting or reproducing without the prior written permission of J. is strictly forbidden and would constitute a breach of copyright._

 ** _Follow me on twitter, instagram and facebook jjmcavoy_**


	5. IV PERSONA NON GRATA

**IV. PERSONA NON GRATA**  
 **ESTHER**

"Ah!" I hissed in pain as I grabbed my head.

"Sorry! The roads aren't really paved this way," The taxi driver said as I opened my eyes, but I immediately flinched at the sunlight.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've had this headache since yesterday," I said sitting up in the back seat of the car and adjusting the seatbelt near my neck. I checked my watch and saw that it was almost eleven a.m. I'd meant to be there bright and early this morning but somehow I ended up missing my first flight, which meant I had to catch the next plane out which, due to emergency weather conditions, ended up landing three hours away. And because this little town was in the middle of nowhere, Montana, there was no train station and I found myself paying for a taxi. Which was surprisingly still far cheaper than the fare in city. "How much further?"

"Not far, it's just on the other side of the lake."

Lake?

Glancing out the window I saw the very hard to miss unless you were jet-lagged, hungry and annoyed, bright blue lake which sat at the bottom of the mountain ridge. In the distance I could see a few houses and building in the greens that led up the mountain.

"Wow." I'd seen things like this in movies and even had something exactly like it as the screensaver on my laptop but seeing it up-close and in person... The vast green treetops that went on endlessly, the beautiful ridged mountains, mountains that even had snow on their peaks.

"Ain't no New York, but it ain't' bad either, huh?" He laughed nodding his head proudly.

"Yeah, it ain't bad," I whispered winding the window down which caused my hair to blow around my face but I didn't care. Holding it back with my hand, I briefly caught a glance of a sign as we drove past.

"Welcome to Lieber Falls... Yours to Rediscover." I read out loud.

"Kinda catchy right? Ten years ago not many people came up this way—what the—?"

"What?" I looked forward just in time to see the smoke coming out from under the hood. "No!"

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm going to have to pull over!" he said as he swerved onto the shoulder of the road and set the car into park before quickly jumping out. I watched as he waved away the gray smoke that was rising with his coat before he used it to lift the hood. In doing so the smoke spilled into the car.

"Ugh!" I coughed and just as I climbed out the car my phone rang. "H…Hello?"

"Esther? Are you okay?"

"No, I am not okay, Grandpa." I coughed again as I walked further away from the car. "Where in the world did you send me to, Grandpa? I think this place hates me! It was supposed to take four hours…and yet here I am seven hours…seven and half hours later still trying to get there! Why? Because my taxi broke down right in front of a lake. Not to mention I haven't eaten anything today. My head feels like it's about to split in two. And my cellphone reception keeps going in and out."

"Breathe."

I took a deep breath. "I am and it's not helping."

"Breathe again."

"Grandpa."

"Esther."

Sighing I did as he said.

"One more time, and this time turn to your right."

"My right?" I turned. "What am I'm I supposed to be seeing?"

"I don't know, I've never been to Montana," he replied with a snicker.

"Gran—"

"I've never been but I've heard it's beautiful. Is it?"

This time I knew what he was trying to do and it was working. How could it not when I really stopped to admire the nature around me. "It really is, Grandpa. Kinda feels like I stepped into one of Henry David Thoreau's novels."

"Which one?"

Of course he'd ask that. Thinking about it as I walked down the trail that sloped towards the water I recited a quote for him so that he'd know which book I was referring to—"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

"Walden." He sighed happily. "I should reread that one."

"Me too. I guess it will make more sense when I'm actually in the wild and not on a rooftop in some major city like London." I teased.

"I'm not sure if you're trying to guilt me or just sulking, meanwhile I've sent you to spend some time with your favorite author."

"And I'm excited…but on the other hand, finding out your favorite author is an asshole isn't the greatest feeling in the world."

"Language!"

"Sorry. Finding out that your favorite author is a _jerk_ …isn't the greatest feeling in the world."

"Malachi is…" He sighed. "Like I told you before, Malachi is a good person with—"

"With a bad past." I finished for him. "I know. I do run his fansite." Meaning I knew his biography…though it was short. He was born in St. James Parish, Louisiana on November 2nd, thirty years ago tomorrow. He lived there until he was nine, when his mother packed up the family car and moved to New York with the hopes of breaking into Broadway. It wasn't until a year later, that she met my grandfather at a casting call for _Les Misérables_ , however instead of gaining a role as one of the extras, Grandpa cast her as _Fantine_. One of the biggest shows of all time, with a big name director, along with dozens of people thinking she was undeserving, must have been the reason why she cracked under the pressure. The night of the show she got drunk, and without leaving him any choice, he kicked her off the set. The next morning she committed suicide. Grandpa had been looking out for Malachi ever since. I'm sure he knew it wasn't his fault, but Grandpa still couldn't walk away from it. After that, Malachi's life was pretty much standard. He went to Princeton on a scholarship, studied English and Art History, and published his first novel a month before graduation which was a runaway bestseller. After that he'd basically dropped off the face of the earth until his accident last week.

"Esther? Esther—?"

"Huh?" I shook my head clear and turned back around towards the slope. "Sorry I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. I'm so tired and this damn taxi…" I glanced to my right and then my left. _No. No way._ "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" I screamed.

"What? What is it?"

"The taxi's gone!"

"What do you mean _gone_?"

"I mean gone!" I screamed as I stood on the main road and looked back the way we came. "As in not here! As in I'm in the middle of nowhere without my bags or my wallet! I don't even have a jacket! GRANDPA!"

He said nothing. Not nothing like he couldn't believe it nothing, but nothing as in my phone service was gone!

"COME ON!"

Kicking the air and jumping in rage I turned around and of course because I was obviously cursed, there was not a single car in sight. I fought back the panic that was rising in my soul as I tried to think. I wasn't sure what else to do but think.

"Okay Esther, breathe." I coached myself while fanning fresh air to my nose. "That's right, keep breathing…keep breathing. You're okay. You're okay. I mean it feels like the setup of a Stephen King novel, but come on, I'm sure the murder rate is much higher in New York." I paused. _Was I trying to make myself feel better or worse?_ Whatever the murder rate was it didn't matter if you were the person being freakin' murdered!

"Why did I fall asleep?" I didn't even know how far anything was from here! But chances were there was town close by. Going back was safer.

 _No._ For some reason it didn't feel right to turn back. _I wasn't far from the house. I can make it._

I wasn't sure where the confidence came from or why I thought I had the ability to navigate myself to someone's house. I mean the closest I'd been to the woods was Central Park! "Ugh! That's kinda of depressing." I muttered to myself. Staring back at the lake I hoped my service would kick back in as I walked back down the slope to the spot that I was in before. However, not even the signal bar service came up. Just the words _No Service_ as if were mocking me.

"Not all those who wander are lost," I whispered to myself as I walked closer to the lake. I wasn't sure if walking on the road was the best choice…especially after reading _Hitchhikers_ by Teddy Grey.

The sun was setting which meant that anybody who'd been fishing around the lake would be going home. So they'd have to come ashore, right? And most houses would be right off the lake, right? I mean why live by the lake if you didn't want to see the lake…

I don't know how long I walked but I saw no house, no boat or fisherman, and eventually no sun. Instead of looking for help I walked over to the rocks by lake and sat down.

I muttered to myself, "Lieber Falls, I don't feel very welcome right now."

 **MALACHI**

"Is she there?!"

I didn't know what to say to him other than the truth. "No."

"MALACHI!"

"Alfred, I'll find her alright? Just…just let me call you back." I hung up quickly. I didn't like hearing him like that. The panic and fear. He'd always been levelheaded and I needed him to stay like that. Leaning forward to grab the handlebar of my motorcycle I was just about to kick off when I saw a ripple on the surface of the water. Then something small, too small for me to see in the darkness of the night, bounced off the top of it. It wouldn't have been odd if it weren't for that it kept happening over and over again. It was a man-made like so other than the minor waves brought by the wind. The ripples could only be done by someone or thing falling inside.

Leaning back, I dismounted my bike and placed my helmet on the handle before walking down the slope with the aid of the little flashlight that hung from my keys. The path was clear enough that I could see footprints at the bottom near to the water's edge. Following them around the side of the waters I didn't have to call out to see if anyone was there because I heard the singing. It was loud and it wasn't very good, in fact it was strange…mostly for the song choice.

"I simply must go." Her voice was high and then dropped to what I guess she thought a man's voice sounded like. "Baby, it's cold outside." And then went up again.

The figure of her, sitting on a rock with her knees drawn up to her chest as she swayed back and forth, and her dark brown hair, which stopped a few inches past her shoulder, swayed with her as she sang the oddest version of _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ , I'd ever heard.

"Baby, it's cold outside…"

"It's not really that cold," I said as I moved a little closer.

You'd think someone who was described as "scared of her own shadow" and had a tendency to "jump to the wildest conclusions" would be a lot more disturbed that some man she'd never met before was walking up to her. However, she was not, which meant that either her grandfather really didn't know her well or she had no concept of self-preservation at all. It had to be the latter of the two because she stretched out her legs and stepped into her flats before walking up to me.

Even with the moonlight reflecting off the lake I couldn't see her until she was close. I'm not sure why, but each step she took felt like it slowed down time until she was finally in front of me. The smile on her face was so wide and so genuine it threw me off. Her brown eyes glazed over but she held back her tears.

"I knew Grandpa would send you. Hi, Malachi. Sorry I'm so late…" And just like that she collapsed and I instinctively reached out to catch her.

Did this woman really just faint?

"Zzzz." She snored softly giving me my answer…Mid-sentence, while standing, she'd fallen asleep. I wasn't sure if I should be amazed or annoyed, so I went with both.

"Aye." I shook her but she didn't even budge. "If you think I'm the type of man who will leave my bike on the road to carry you through the forest, you're mistaken."

I tried again. I tried everything and she still didn't budge. If it weren't for the snoring, I would have thought she was dead.

"If anything happens to that bike I'm going to be pissed." I muttered as I lifted Sleeping Beauty up and started to walk.

"You've reached Alfred Benjamin Noëlle, leave a message after the…" I hung up and stared at the phone again. That feeling…that feeling I hated…rising in my chest again. It was already morning and he hadn't answered any of my calls. I couldn't remember a time when I'd call and he didn't get back to me within the hour no matter the time of day. Especially given the circumstances of last night and the fact that he didn't even know what had become of his beloved granddaughter.

 _But you're going to have to get used to this._ The rational of part of me thought and yet I found myself redialing the only number in my phone.

"You've reached Alfred Benjamin Noëlle, leave a message after the beep…" _BEEP!_

"Alfred…um…I found her. She's fine. She's sleeping…hurry up and answer, you know how I hate…I mean…just call me back." Hanging up I sat back against the wall of my room and sipped my now cold cup of coffee. I finished the cup before I reached over and turned off the lamp, which wasn't effective anyway since sunlight was already streaming through the smallest gap between the dark drapes. I contemplated getting up to close them but I didn't want to get up. Instead, I closed my eyes hoping that I was uncomfortable enough to not dream.

 _THUD._ "Oua… gosh bul-ah!"

My eyes snapped open and I glanced at the wall to my right. What in the hell? That wasn't even words…followed by the sound of the floorboards creaking as she walked.

"Hello?" she whispered softly.

I rose to my feet as though I were emerging out of a coffin since I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep with her awake and wandering about. Taking a shirt from the floor, I pulled it over my head before I walked into the hall. I expected her to be at the door of the guest room but instead I found her standing at the top of the stairs with her brown hands gripping her pillow as though it were a weapon. Part of me was curious as to how she thought a pillow, out of all the stuff in that room, was going to be her best weapon of defense.

Standing on balls of her bare feet she whispered a little louder, "Hello—"

"Yes?"

"Ah!" She screamed and spun around so quickly that all I saw was white as the pillow hit the side of my face so hard I stumbled back as it ripped, sending an explosion of feathers everywhere. "Jesus Christ you scared me!"

I stood there in shock, my jaw aching, while the white feathers fell around us like snow. "I. Scared. You?" I repeated softly at first before losing it as feather nearly entered my mouth. Smacking it away and I stomped closer to her and screamed. "ARE YOU INSANE?!"

Eyes wide she attempted to step back though she didn't have the space, and as she did, she reeled at the top of the stairs as her body tilted backward. I reached out and grabbed ahold of her wrist but she only managed to drag me along with her. We tumbled once before I was able to clench the wooden railing while she held on to me.

 _This woman…_

"Are you okay? Are your hands okay?!" she asked when she was able to break free of my arm and sit on the stair.

Pulling myself upright, I bit my tongue and exhaled.

"You're bleeding." She moved to reach for my elbow but I stuck my hand out which luckily was the universal sign for _STAY BACK!_

"Go downstairs. Do not touch anything. Do not go anywhere. Don't breathe if will cause another disaster." I hissed out as I rose and walked back upstairs towards my room and slammed the door behind me before I moved to the bed and picked up my phone.

"You've reached Alfred Benjamin Noëlle, leave a message after the beep…" _BEEP_!

"She's not trouble?! I'll hardly notice she's here?!" I hollered into the phone. "Alfred, your granddaughter radiates trouble. If trouble was within a ten-mile radius of her, it would come running until it knocked her over. I notice her. I notice her a lot! Call her and tell her to go somewhere else!"

Hanging up I tossed the phone back onto the sheets. Taking a deep breath and wincing at my scraped elbow I lifted it higher to see. Walking to my bathroom, I ran cold water over it and covered the wound with a clean hand towel before I headed back into my new battlefield. I was worried that if I left her alone for any period of time she'd accidentally start a damn forest fire.

"I deserved that," she said as she sat on the second-to-last step of the stairs looking out the window. "I mean, I haven't even been here for even a full day yet and I've managed to…oh, where do I start? I missed my flight, flew to the wrong town, got robbed by my taxi driver…" She started to laugh but put her hand over her head. "Sorry! Urgh! But seriously, who does that happen to? From there I got lost in the woods, and now I've maimed you." She glanced over her shoulder up at me with a smile, though it wasn't the same smile she'd given me last night. This one was forced. She nodded at my elbow "I'm really sorry. I fell off the bed and panicked because I didn't know where I was…I'm not normally such a klutz, I swear. I'll talk to my grandfather and—"

"You're annoying," I said to her.

She frowned as she rose to her feet. "I'm trying to apologize here!"

"I know which is why you're annoying," I said as I sat on the same step she'd just been sitting on. I dabbed my wounded elbow. "You should allow me the courtesy of being annoyed with you for a little longer before apologizing and then making me the asshole who doesn't want to accept your apology."

"What kind of logic is that?"

I looked up at her. "My logic. And since this is my house and I'm your client. My logic is the only logic that matters."

She made a face and eyed me up and down before she sat down beside me. "Esther Noëlle. Translation Editor at Penohxi Publishing House, retiring klutz, persona non grata of Lieber Falls, and creator of Lord Nation online. I'm your biggest fan."

She stuck her hand, which had about four different rings on each of them, out and I stared at it for a moment then at her.

"If you don't shake it, I'll feel super lame and if my defenses are down who knows how much trouble will find me."

She was right. She was lame.

"Malachi Lord," I said as I reached out and took her hand, and the moment I did, a pain unlike anything I'd felt before rushed through me. I dropped the towel as my vision blurred and I fell forward.

"Malachi? Malachi!"

 _"Don't…call 911."_ Was what I wanted to say but everything went black as I fell into the past.

* * *

 **PLEASE REVIEW! I really want to read your comments!**

Please Remember _"Malachi and I" is an original story of J.J. McAvoy, shared on this blog by J.J. McAvoy. Copying, duplicating, printing, publishing in any form of media including web, manipulating, transmitting or reproducing without the prior written permission of J. is strictly forbidden and would constitute a breach of copyright._


	6. V POMEGRANATE BLOSSOMS

VI. POMEGRANATE BLOSSOMS  
 **MALACHI**

 **1599 Bhadra (August) – Lahore, Capital of Hindustan, the Mughal Empire.**

Returning from the war, as I sat by the king's side, love came to me and asked, "Will you die for me? Will you walk through fire for me? Would you forsake the sweetest of wines and the greatest of feasts to never let go of my hand?"

She glanced up from her instrument, golden rings upon her fingers, dressed in the most beautiful greens and jewels, her feet bare upon red tiles of very best of the courtesan quarters which Emperor Akbar, my father, had given her. Her long, brown braid lay over her shoulder where it spilled onto her lap. Seeking to deny me her smile and the beautiful warmth of her sun-colored eyes, she returned to her instrument, gently playing as she inquired, "And your answer to love was?"

"My answer," I repeated following the shapes on the ground—green and gold on the other layer, following the pattern to her. "My answer was as love expected."

"Love expects nothing. Not even love in return," she murmured, her hands and eyes still fixed on the instrument.

Reaching the red flower pattern right behind her I placed my hand on the side of her cheek and she leaned on it. "My love does," I whispered as I stroked her cheek. "So I said yes. I said yes to love. What is life without you? Let me die for I wish never to know. What is fire to one whose heart is ablaze? For I am fire for you."

"And what of wine and feast?" she asked as I sat down beside her.

"That I could not release." And before she could look away I placed my thumb on her pink lips. "For the sweetest of all wines are your lips, and greatest of feasts are the ones in which I may share with you."

"Salim." She giggled. "You are a prince in this life and yet you are still a poet."

"Anarkali." I grinned. "Who would not become a poet at the sight of you?"

"I do not care about who else…not even the Emperors." She hung her head and with the crook of my finger, I lifted her chin. Her face was more serious than I'd ever seen as she said, "I am not his courtesan."

"You are not." I agreed and as she relaxed I said, "You are mine."

"You!" She reached out to smack me but I was already on my feet.

"Why do you not like the word courtesan?" I teased and as she lifted up her lehenga to chase after me, her odhani fell which offered me a clear sight of her waist and belly, allowing her to reach out and grab me in my distraction.

"If I am the only woman you touch again," she whispered in my arms as I placed my hands upon her skin and drew her waist closer to me. "And if no man but you touches me…then I shall accept the word courtesan proudly."

"And wife?"

She reached up, her fingers lightly touching the scar upon my eye. "This time you are the Prince of Hindustan. I cannot be anything more than a courtesan."

"Everything I am changes, but my love for you. You are my wife until we are no more. Of all of Emperor Akbar's sons, I am his favorite, I will request you as a reward for victory in the war. You shall become my courtesan. I shall have no other but you, and when I am the king of Hindustan, when no one can stand our path, you shall be my wife." I had more than hope. I could see it. How possible it was for us to finally be together and she could too which was why she threw her arms around me and pressed her body against my own.

"Anarkali! Anarkali!"

We broke away quickly as the woman's giggling voice reached us, and Anarkali dashed to pick up her veil while I hid in the corner behind the mirror where I was unable to see her as the girl came inside.

"Mansi? Do not run—"

"Anarkali you are the luckiest woman in all the world." The woman sighed happily. "Oh if only the Emperor would call for me!"

"The Emperor calls for me?" She repeated much more softly and hearing the words once more, reassuring me it was not a nightmare but the force seeking to keep us apart in this life…my father.

"I came to see if you wanted help with preparations. And do not forget me tomorrow when you've truly become the Emperor's—"

"No!" She hollered.

"Anarkali?"

"I am unwell, Mansi. Before they arrive tell them I am unfit to see the Emperor." I heard footsteps close in until they were beside me. I glanced to my left, watching as she took off her veil, and select one of the scented oil from her trunk. She allowed a few drops to fall upon it before returning the oil and walking away. Never once did she look to me. "Have them give him my veil, and I will come for it tomorrow."

"Anarkali…why are you unwell? Do you need—?"

"My chest pains me but do not worry. Go. Do not keep the Emperor waiting," she replied. Saying she'd return, the girl left just as loudly as she came.

It was only when it was silent that I came out from behind the mirror. She stood in the middle of the red flower of her room with her arms wrapped around herself. Looking up to me as if she were already the Queen of Hindustan she ordered. "Save me from this or I shall rather die and meet you again elsewhere."

"I will," I said as I reached out and placed my hand upon her cheek again. "Smile. What is it you always tell me?"

She tried not to, but couldn't stop the corners of her lips from turning up. "We'll make it. You'll see. This is the last one. Our last life."

 **ESTHER**

 _BEEP…_

 _BEEP…_

"99.1 °F." I read. "It's coming down." Sighing in relief I reached for the cold patch on his forehead when suddenly his hand grabbed me, and his eyelids snapped open he tightened his hold. "Ahh!"

"Who are you?" His blue eyes glared at me as he pulled me in closer. "Who are you?!"

"LET GO!" I hollered, scratching his arm as I tugged my hand away from him. "What is wrong with you?!"

 _Damn that hurt._ I rubbed my wrist and he kept glaring as if he really didn't know who I was. _Maybe he didn't. Maybe the fever had left him dazed._ "Esther Noëlle? Alfred Noëlle's granddaughter—"

"I know! But who…" He paused, his gaze drifting to my hands, one of which was rubbing my sore wrist and the other gripping onto the thermometer. "You were wearing rings?"

"Huh?"

"The rings! The ones on your hand when you shook mine? Those rings?"

He was insane and I didn't want to get closer to him. I pointed to the rings which sat on the coffee table next to the bottle of water, medicine, and ice packs. He reached out to touch them but hesitated. It was then that I remembered Jeff Wheeler's novel _The Queen's Poisoner_.

"Are you allergic to nickel?" I asked carefully leaning in and he lifted his head to look at me and I leaned back again.

"It's not gold."

I snickered. "I doubt Li-Mei would have given me her solid gold rings. I'm sure it's made up of a whole bunch of different metals but I read that even the slightest amount of nickel can cause—"

"These are Li-Mei's?" he asked softly looking back at them.

"Mine now…but they were hers. We share stuff all the time." Her hands are smaller than mine so instead of dealing with the hassle of returning them, she'd given them to me.

When stared at them without saying anything I found myself walking forward. He looked like he was in pain. Not physically but…like he was recalling something sad. Reaching for the empty ice-patch box he flipped it over, covered the rings and slid them to the end of the table and into the box. Rising to his feet, he walked over and handed the box to me. Confused and a bit stunned I took them slowly. He peeled the patch off his forehead and placed it over my wrist.

"Sorry." He muttered pressing it down. "You're right, I have nickel allegory. I'm usually much better at avoiding it but it seems I overlooked it."

"Crap." I sighed dropping my head. "I guess I can add poisoning you to my list of screw ups today."

He stepped back and looked around the house which had the most picturesque wide-open views I'd ever seen. The whole house itself was made of wood, and yet most of the furniture felt much more modern. The colors kind of bored me though. Everything was bland. Like a model home. Maybe it was a way to make the inhabitants focus on the views?

"You cleaned up? How long was I out?"

"It's a little after noon, so I guess about five hours. My grandfather said not to call for help and that you'd be okay. I was nervous and decided to clean up seeing as how I caused the mess in the first place."

"Alfred? He called you?"

"Yep. I was able to find a charger in one of the boxes in the guest room along with some old clothes…seeing as everything else I owned was in that jacka…don't curse, Esther…" I corrected myself. "That _thief's_ car. You should lie down, maybe eat—"

"I smell coffee," he said, and like a bloodhound he walked around me and headed towards the kitchen. Without cream or sugar or even bothering to heat the pot he took a black mug from the cabinet, filled it, and chugged it.

"I'll take you to file a police report. You can take the rest of my mom's clothes to the guesthouse when you get back," he said as he placed the cup back on the counter.

So many important things had been said in those two sentences. While I was contemplating how to reply he was already walking back to the stairs.

"Wait!" I reached out to him mid-step.

"What now?!"

 _Forgive him, he has a fever._

Clamping my mouth closed I shook my head. He merely rolled his eyes and continued on his way up towards his room.

Reaching into the back pocket of the ever-so-stylish late 90's high-waisted jeans with the hole in the knee, that I now wore, I took out my phone and texted what I wanted to say instead.

 **MALACHI**

 _Happy Birthday! It's why I said wait. I wanted to say it to you but I get that I'm probably not making it all that happy. Also about your mom's clothes…I'm sorry for going through your stuff. I kinda ripped my pants moving you onto the couch. And before you say I'm a klutz remember I was moving dead weight in skinny jeans! :D Lol. Yeah but thanks for all of this. Starting tomorrow I'm going to be much more professional. We'll get the book done! Lastly, as I said, I'm your biggest fan and run your fansite. I decided to replace the site with a countdown to your birthday and told everyone to reflect on why they are fans, then send videos of their thoughts, it's live now. Thank god I set it before my laptop was stolen! Here's the link… LoveyouMalachi01/HB_wishes_

Part of me, the suppressed egotistical part of me, was tempted to look. But the rest of me knew that Li-Mei would be among the messages and I didn't want anything else to trigger a memory. If her rings along could do that, then what could a video do?

Closing her message I realized something else—she now had my number.

"…this life," I whispered as I contemplated whether or not I should save her number. I was just about to hit delete when Alfred's call came in. Relaxing, I answered.

"You're still alive."

"So are you. Thirty-two missed calls though? I'm a little touched, Malachi." He chuckled and strangely sounded much better.

"What happen to you?"

"This and that but the drugs they gave seem to be helping actually."

"So how do I return your granddaughter?"

"Aye, she nursed you back to health didn't she?"

"She put an ice-patch on my head which has left a strange red rectangular mark behind and—"

"And she ripped her jeans lifting you onto the couch."

She'd told him that too? "Honestly, does she not have any filter? Or the ability to stay on her feet—"

"Give her some slack you ungrateful little …" He sighed. "She's shy around new people so she tends to either do too much or freeze up. Besides, it doesn't help that she doesn't know how to treat you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she knows I basically raised you after your mother passed. So you're like…cousins."

"Cousins?"

"Exactly! To her you're like a long-lost successful cousin and she wants you to like her."

"And you know this how?"

"She said so when I called."

She'd said so? Of course. Us, cousins…The more I thought about it the more I actually felt a little relieved. "At least she isn't in love with me..."

"Yes, because you're so easy to love and women are falling at your feet on a daily basis."

"Your sarcasm is unappreciated."

He laughed…but it was followed by that cough again. He coughed so loudly that even though he pulled the phone from his ear I could hear him just as clearly.

"Esther in love?" he said when he finally returned the phone to his lips. His voice was much softer now. "That girl wouldn't know love if she ran right into her soulmate. Unlike some other person I know. How painful was it this time?"

 _The irony of him asking about my pain as he sat in pain wasn't lost on me._

"It wasn't painful. Get some rest. Don't worry about her."

"I'm not just worried about her, Malachi. If you're her cousin, it makes you my grandson. I'm worried about you."

I snickered as I walked into my bathroom. "Don't get all sentimental, that's something someone says as they go quietly into the night."

Silence.

"Alfred?"

"Your heart dropped a little bit there, didn't it?" He snorted as he chuckled.

This old… "Goodb—I'll talk to you later, Alfred!" Hanging up I stared at the screen which glowed with the option to delete his granddaughter's number…my new cousin apparently.

"Crazies flock together," I muttered as I hit save.

 **ESTHER**

 _Why was I like this?_

An introvert some days an extroverted the next. Which would have been okay if it didn't keep adding to the mountain worth of inconsistencies I tended to find in myself. There were days in which I hated winter and days in which I loved it. I loved the sunshine but I also loved the rain. I liked all the colors in the rainbow. Some days I loved the smell of coffee but there were other days when I couldn't stand to drink it. I could be a vegetarian for a year and then wake up one day and eat a whole stack of bacon. Religion? I'd done almost all of the most widely practiced religions and enjoyed them. I could fight some days, not just any fighting but kickass Mortal Kombat-Karate Kid-Eye of the Tiger-style fighting, and then the next I would find myself tripping down a flight of stairs and unable to do anything right! It was so frustrating! I didn't know who I was. Not like what my name was or who my family was, but who I, Esther Noëlle, was on the inside. If I was a little bit of everything didn't that mean I was a little bit of nothing too?

 _What was wrong with me?_

"You ready?"

"Huh?" I sat up and quickly wiped my eyes.

He froze at the glass door of his cabin-styled home as he regarded me with his complementing his blue eyes. He was wearing dark blue jeans that were tucked into black boots, and a black leather jacket over his green and blue flannel shirt.

"I cry a lot," I said much quicker than I wanted and I felt like kicking myself but tried to save face by saying, "My grandfather said my tear ducts are loose and so my eyes tear up even when the wind blows. HA!…So how far is the police station I really hope they can find my stuff—"

"The report is simply for insurance proposes," he said as he walked down the first few steps of the house. "Your things are most likely long gone by now."

"Right." I should have figured that.

Without another word he kept walking until he stood upon the driveway and I followed expecting to see a car when he lifted the garage door. But instead, sitting in the middle of the oversized garage was a pure black Harley. He headed past it and picked up a helmet from the counter at the back of the garage before coming back and handing it to me. The helmet that was supposed to protect my skull…though I wasn't buying it.

"Would you prefer to walk?" he asked as he kicked his foot over the motorcycle and sat down.

"You just got over a fever and—"

"Last chance." He started the bike.

Taking the helmet from him I put it on before I nervously climbed onto the bike. I sat behind him unsure of what to do with my hands but he reached back and placed my hands around his waist. "Hold on tightly. And don't worry, I've never fallen before."

"You've never ridden with me." I reminded him. "I'm a klutz now."

The corner of his lip turned up as he kicked the stand up. "I thought you said you retired?"

Before I could reply he launched the bike forward and I closed my eyes and held on tighter, as my hair flew up and all around me as we cut through the wind.

"Open your eyes!" He hollered at me.

"I'm good, thanks!" I yelled into the wind.

"You're crushing my liver!"

My eyes snapped open and my hands loosened. However, I saw that the smirk was still on his lips.

"Relax. Look." He nodded towards the lake and I watched the way the water seemed to sparkle as we passed by. We were not where I'd been abandoned but were instead on the side that was closer to the mountains.

I didn't know why or how, but I began to relax and the wind no longer bothered me. The fact that there was nothing to separate me from the road below or the air around me felt strangely familiar and as he rode on I let go of him completely and outstretched my hands as far as I could from my body. _Why did this feel so nice?_

"Malachi, this is amazing! I feel like…like…I'm riding a horse!—Ah!" I clasped my hands around him tightly once more as the bike swerved but I felt his chest shake as he chuckled. "That was not funny! Ugh!" I coughed as I clutched at my throat, really hoping that what I thought just flew into my mouth hadn't actually flown into my mouth.

He drove us right into the heart of the small town which sat a little way off from the foot of the mountains and in the midst of the massive trees. I realized then that if I had walked in the opposite direction of his house, I would have been much worse off, and probably completely unable to find anyone. Lieber Falls, population of one thousand and ten—eleven if you now included me—was completely hidden, a small town tucked into the valley with a massive lake and trees sprinkled in. He pulled to a stop at the red brick building where a statue of two little kids—one was holding on to the pole which held the Montana state flag and the other had a bird nestled inside its outstretched hand.

"Are you getting off?"

"No. I plan on growing roots here." I made a face behind his back. I was really getting tired of him talking down to me. Stepping off the bike I removed my helmet and tried to fix my hair—the keyword being _tried_.

"You done?"

"Do you always ask these many questions or are you just trying to annoy me?" I asked him.

" _I'm_ annoying _you_?"

"Yes." I turning toward the building. "Not coming?"

"Actually, no. I said I'd bring you here not hold your hand and walk you through. You really shouldn't inconvenience your clients, Ms. Noëlle."

I watched in shock as he zipped off down the street, the black of his jacket and his bike disappearing as other cars pulled out of their parking spots.

"Fine! I'll go in alone! No big deal." I spun on my heels and looked straight at the building as two officers stepped out. One of them gave me a look over as he walked to his green and white squad car. I smiled and nodded at him as I walked into the building which was actually much smaller on the inside. As I looked around I saw that two drunk men lay snoring on the floor of the holding cell. Leaning against the counter with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other an old, white woman who had crow's feet around her brown eyes and whose gray hair was cropped short behind her ears looked at the two men and shook her head before noticing me. She looked me up and down from my bell bottoms to my face, and her chewing slowed.

"Hi. My name is Esther Noëlle—"

"Let me guess…" She stood up straighter. "You were robbed coming into town yesterday?"

My mouth dropped opened. "How…"

"This is my town, young lady, I know everything that happens here—"

"Alfred Noëlle called yesterday demanding a manhunt to find you. I could hear him yelling on the other side of the phone." A tall younger man with blond hair and brown eyes came around the counter and stood beside the woman who glared at him. "I'd never seen my grandmother get bossed around before— _ouch_!"

"You ain't seen the inside of your own stomach yet either." She lifted her mug up as if she were about to smack him with it. "And it's _Sheriff_ to you, Officer Richards. Sheriff Eleanor Richards, been that way for the last—"

"Last hundred years?" he asked smiling wide at her.

"Keep smiling. I'll see how much you smile when I start docking your paycheck." She nodded as she walked back to her office.

"Sheriff!"

"Let the guys know we don't need a search anymore." She nodded at me then frowned. "And tell your grandfather we'll find the thief. We _backwater_ cops know how to do our jobs thank you." The door slammed behind her.

I cringed. "Please don't tell me my grandfather called you all backwater cops? I'm so sorry I got him all—"

"It's okay. Lieber is pretty backwater." He grinned and handed me a clipboard. "Besides, like I said my grandmother has never been so tongue-tied before. Here, fill this out and we'll see if anything pops up in a pawn shop or online."

I gasped in relief. "Thank you, Officer Richards."

"That was my father. You can call me David." He grinned and I stared up at him. And to think Li-Mei said we all wanted bad boys. Ha! Give me a nice guy any day.

"You okay?" he leaned forward.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking you're really nice." I smirked

"I'm not always nice, you just happen to be cute." He winked and nodded to the clipboard.

"It's the bell bottoms isn't it?" I asked as I twisted my leg for him to see and as he laughed so did I… finally.

 **MALACHI**

 _How long did it take to file a damn report?_

It was a minute after five in the afternoon and she still hadn't called for me to come get her.

Was she lost again?

 _Should I go...why should I?_

The sun was still up but knowing her she'd most—

 _Knowing her? How did I know her? I'd only just met her._ Whatever! She was big girl…who managed to catch a ride with a thief, get lost, and fall down a flight of stairs in less than twenty-four hours.

 _Alfred, you better not die and leave me with this girl!_ I groaned as I dropped the paintbrush, rose from the floor and snatched my leather jacket from the bed while rushing down the stairs. I opened the front door just as the red and blue lights of the squad car pull up in front of my house.

 _Great, what had she done now?_

"Hi! You're here" She waved at me like we hadn't seen each other in four decades and not four hours.

"Of course I'm here, I live here." I reminded her once I reached the bottom.

Ignoring me, she and the blond-haired office pulled out bags of… of God knows what out of his car. "This town is amazing! I love it!" She declared.

Coming up the steps he stood eye to eye with me. "Ah, so you're Esther's top secret client. Nice to meet you, I'm Officer David Richards."

He stretched out his hand but I reached for the bags instead and took them from him.

"Thank you for driving her back, Officer."

"And for the tour. If you see Mr. Baker before I do don't you dare help him cheat." She pointed her finger at him while struggling to hold her other bags.

"Me? Never." He nodded as he glanced down at the bags in her hands. Before he could take them from her I reached down and pick them up as well. His brown eyes shifted to me. "It was nice meeting you, though I'd love to get a name other than 'the author?'"

"Am I required by law to give you my name—?" I bit my tongue as she jabbed her elbow into my ribs.

"Told you authors are a bit crabby sometimes. Thank you again, David, and please tell the sheriff that I'm deeply sorry for the backwater comment on behalf of my grandfather. Let her know I'll surely have a word with my grandpa about it."

"You apologize too much."

"Yep. I'm part Canadian, don't you know?"

Was I not here? Was that what was happening? Had I become invisible?

"Mr. Author." He nodded to me and I nodded back as he got back into his squad car and pulled away. Esther was giving him the same goodbye wave she'd given me.

"Wow, you really can't help yourself can you?" She turned to me, daring to cross her arms. "He was being nice."

"The last nice guy you met here robbed you, remember? Sorry if I don't trust your intuition."

"I never said the taxi driver was nice!"

"Oh? So you knew he was a bad guy and you got into his car anyway?"

Her fist balled up as she glared at me. "Why did you even come outside then?"

"Excuse me? I live here! I can come outside if I like. You're the one who disappeared for five hours."

"You're the one that left me!"

"Did I not say to call when you were done?"

"No!"

I paused as I realized I hadn't. "Well, I meant to. Here, take some of these." I outstretched my hand for her to take half her shit back. But she just stared. "Equality. I have half, you have half."

"You're every girl's dream, aren't you?"

"I don't need every girl, just one." We'd been going back and forth but the moment I said it I saw her eyes widen. "Not you—"

"You have a long lost love? Is that why your books always end tragically? For some reason it didn't work out and so now your characters can never be happy? Is that why this new book is so hard for you to write?"

 _Return to sender._ I wanted to stamp it on her forehead and ship her off.

"Give me your other hand," I told her.

As she lifted her other arm with a confused look on her face as I placed the rings of the bags over it causing her hand to drop under their weight. Reaching into my back pocket I then pulled out a key which I placed into one of the bags.

"The guest house is around back. What you do with your day is your business. Just let me know. I don't like people wandering around my house. Goodnight."

"What happened to equality?!"

"This is equality. I came with nothing I'm leaving with nothing."

"That's justice, not equality."

"Huh…" I nodded slowly. "That's true. Goodnight." I turned back around and walked up the stairs to the house.

"Oh, everyone is right! You are a massive jerk!"

"And you're my number one fan!" I replied slamming the door behind me and the moment I was alone everything I'd just done came flooding back to me. Why was I acting like such a child?

 _Alfred_. His name flashed through my mind. I was acting this way because if she'd gotten herself lost or hurt again he'd come here personally to talk me to death.

That was the reason.

Heading back to my room I took off my jacket and tossed it onto the bed and turned back to the painting. Kicking off my shoes I sat in front of it and picked up the paintbrush. Dipping the bristles into the gold paint, I touched it lightly to the canvas, creating a thin streak that became her golden nose ring. Her hazel brown eyes sparkled too.

 _I don't need every girl just one…Just one who apparently looked differently each time_ , I thought as I glanced from the painting to my bedroom window, watching as Klutzarella herself heaved all the bags she'd bought onto the deck of the guest house before collapsing there for a moment. The winds blew strands of her hair around her face and she muttered what had to be a curse at me though I didn't know why. She had her own private place overlooking the water completely rent free because I was just that nice a guy. If she didn't like it she could leave.

"Ah—" I hissed reaching up to my eye as the paintbrush dropped from my hand.

 _No. Not again._

"AH!" I slipped as I tried to make for my bed but fell just short of it.

 **1599 Ogrohayon (November) – Lahore, capital of Hindustan, the Mughal Empire.**

"My son! Another victory—"

"WHERE IS SHE?!" I yelled to the court. I advanced and drew my sword as the guards rushed towards me.

"Salim!" My mother tried to hurry over to me however the guards reached me first and I slashed at their hands gashing one of them. In that moment it was as if time it slowed and they gasped, watching in horror as the blood fell upon white of the floor in the midst of the flower petals.

"HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!" My father, the Emperor, rose from his seat at the head of the hall, and all rose with him. "YOU DARE SHED BLOOD IN THIS HALL? MY HALL?!"

"Akbar!" My mother dropped to her knees in front him kneeling until her head touched the white titles. "Forgive my son! Our son! He has been hexed! He is blind! That is the only sense for this madness."

"Anarkali!" I yelled over her. "Where is she?"

"Do you not see your mother pleads for your life?!"

"I have no life without my wife!"

"The one you call your wife put poison upon my table!"

He walked down the steps, his hands behind his back, until he stood beside my still kneeling mother.

"I, your Emperor, gave NO blessing of such a wife!"

"I needed no such blessing!"

All among the Great Hall gasped while my mother sobbed. Not only had I broken the law and cursed myself by shedding blood upon sacred ground, but I'd forsaken the Emperor, my own father.

"Lufti!"

"Yes, Father!" My younger brother dropped to his knees.

"From this day forth you shall be Salim, Prince of Hindustan, and MY HEIR!" He declared to all the world, and Lufti looked to me wide eyed as he continued. "Woman, rise and embrace your son. Salim rise and embrace your mother!"

My mother would not rise.

Lufti, rose and walked over to the woman who raised me, who loved me, who wept for me even now, and in my heart I was sorry, but I could not go to her. I could no longer be her son.

"Guards, take this…this…man…to his wife! Let them die together!"

I threw my blade, the tip of which was stained red, along with the turban upon my head and all the jewels from my body upon the bed of flower petals. Outstretching my arms for the guards—men I'd trained with, men I'd went to war with—to take me. As they pulled me back gently, as if to not hurt me, I looked into my father's green eyes, eyes that were glazed over with rage and pain. Lufti held my mother as she covered her mouth to silence her sobs.

"GET HIM OUT!" My father bellowed for all to hear.

They said nothing as they took me through the halls of the palace towards the pit of the forsaken. It was the one place I'd never seen in all of my life. Within the chamber there was nothing, the walls and ground were devoid of any color and life. There was nothing but the dark pit that had been dug into the ground. Even the sun was only allowed through a matching circle in the ceiling directly above her, a circle meant to scorch when the sun arose, and drown when it rained.

"How long has she been here?" I whispered as they released me at the edge of the pit.

None of them answered. Instead, Rashad, my General…no _Salim's_ General said. "You've given up the world in exchange for a woman who is leaving it."

 _She was still alive._ I held my chest. Turning back to him I smiled.

"Rashad, returning from war, as I sat by the King's side, love came to me and asked: Will you die for me? Will you walk through fire for me? Would you forsake the sweetest of wines and the greatest of feasts to never let go of my hand? And I said yes."

He took a step back from me. "Love was cruel to ask such of a Prince."

"Love did not care that I was a Prince. And so goodbye my friend. Protect Lufti as he is now the prince you once followed."

He gripped the staff tightly but was unable to push me into the pit. None of them seemed able to and so I stepped back. The sun blinded my eyes as I fell into the darkness towards _her_ , the woman, whose face was like pomegranate blossoms…my one and only love in this life and all lives.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	7. VI Mourning

VI. MOURNING

ESTHER

 **SUNDAY**

"You can do this." I reassured myself as I drew in a deep breath and knocked.

No answer.

I waited for two more minutes before knocking again. And it took another minute before I heard the doorknob jiggle. I expected him to open the door wider than a small crack, but it was wide enough for me to see half of his body. His right eye was bloodshot and it looked like he'd been crying. His hair was completely disheveled and he still wore the clothes he'd had on yesterday.

"What is it?" he asked his voice deep and sore.

"I wanted to talk about your next novel—"

"It's Sunday. The day of rest. Let me rest," he replied as he closed the door in my face.

I stood there stunned for a moment before I turned around and walked back down the stairs. As I stood in the driveway I paused and looked back at his house. "Was he hung over?" But I hadn't smelled any alcohol on him.

 _Maybe he was still feeling ill?_

"I guess I'll go back into town." I stuck my hands into the new pair of jeans I'd bought and headed down the road. But with every few paces behind me I felt like turning back and checking on him.

 _He's a big boy. He'll be fine. Right?_

 **MONDAY**

 _KNOCK!_

 _KNOCK!_

 _KNOCK!_

"If you don't answer I'm going to think you're dead!" I yelled from the other side of the door. "I'll end up calling the Sheriff and—"

"Shut up please." I heard a voice from his side of the door.

I put my hand on it. "Are you okay?"

"I would be if you stopped yelling."

"I've been out here for an hour and called nine times!"

"Esther." He sighed. He cracked the door an even smaller distance than he had the day before. I could only see his face and it was worse. He was pale, too pale, and his eyes, they weren't bloodshot anymore but now he had dark circles around them.

"You look—"

"I forgot to tell you, I don't work on Mondays either." He tried to give me his usual smirk but it fell flat and I was stunned that when he closed the door I didn't realize he was lying faster.

"Malachi!"

"Go away!"

My temple throbbed and I could feel a headache coming on. Inhaling deeply, I stood up straighter. "It's okay, Esther," I said to myself. "He's sick. Give him space. He can take care of himself."

But he barely had anything in his fridge during his birthday, other than two steaks, some ham, and some bread. What in the world was he eating now? Was he even eating? The better question was, was he sleeping? He looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest since…since I'd gotten here if not longer.

Taking out my phone I texted Li-Mei.

 _Operation the Great Malachi Novel—day two: Fail._

She texted back immediately and I responded while making my way downstairs. _First, we need a new name for this operation. Second, it's day four. The day you got there and his birthday counts. Third, seriously what is up with this guy? Is it part of his artistic process or something?_

 _No…I don't know._ I replied. But I wasn't giving up. If I had to nurse him back to health so that he could write then that's what I would do.

 **TUESDAY**

I walked up the stairs to his house holding the grocery bags from Nevis's Grocery and Liquor Store. I was fully prepared to drop it next to the door and knock, but as I approached I saw that his door was cracked open and creepily swaying back and forth on its hinges.

"Malachi?" I called out but got no reply.

Leaning closer I called out once more. "Malachi? You home?"

Silence.

Sucking up my fear, I pushed the door slightly and peeked in. Seeing no sign of him, I finally let myself in.

It was hard to believe I'd clean the place on Saturday. Notebook paper was everywhere, along with mugs—not one or two, but at least four different mugs, just laying all over the living room. Two of them were shattered. The handle of one was sitting in a pile of its own broken body on the ground. The couch was moved oddly, the lamp that had previously resided on the coffee table was now on the ground with its lightbulb shattered as well.

"Malachi?" I called again as I placed the groceries on the couch. I turned towards the stairs but bent down to pick up a few of the papers from ground.

Ink.

No, it was _paint_. Black paint. There were Arabic words, the calligraphy was frantic, jarring, with paint spatters all over it.

 _Father_. The first word read, on the next paper: _Forgive._ Followed by: _Pain._ Then _Anarkali_ which was a name. My Arabic wasn't the best but I believe it meant red blossoming. The longest phrase was written in red. _Love asked and I said yes._

I gathered the papers together before making my way up to his room. The door was cracked open as well, and there, lying on his bed in nothing but his jeans, I found him staring blankly at something in the room. I saw that he'd abandoned the mugs, opting instead to bring the whole coffee pot to his room. Even that was empty, except for the smallest brown liquid within it.

"Malachi?" I whispered as I stepped inside and tried to get him to look at me.

But he remained silent as tears fell from his eyes without his control. Now that I was further into the room I turned and followed his gaze. And there, leaning against a few other blank canvases, was an Indian woman with long dark brown hair, dressed in green and gold traditional clothes. In the corner of the painting I saw the date written in white—1599.

I lifted the papers in my hand and motioned at her.

"Anarkali?" I asked turning to him. "Is she Anarkali?"

He blinked slowly and his dazed blue eyes looked to me, like he couldn't focus on me and was instead looking right through me.

"I killed her," he whispered. "I killed her to spare her the pain…I shouldn't have! I should have held on! He would have forgiven us! He was going to forgive us! I'm sure he was. We could have stopped them! We could have lived happily ever after but I killed her! I KILLED HER!"

"Malachi!" I dropped the papers and rushed to his side as he coughed and rolled himself into a ball.

"No. Please. No!" He begged rocking back and forth with his head in his hands.

"What do I do? What's wrong?!" I yelled touching his arm but he just shook and rolled over, with his back to me. He cried out one final time before he slipped into unconsciousness. "Malachi!"

He was ice cold and shivering as though he were naked in the middle of the North Pole. Unable to pull the blankets from under him, I wrapped him up as best as I could but he still wouldn't stop shaking so I laid next to him and held him as tightly as I could.

"You're going to be okay," I whispered at his back. "You're going to be okay. It's only in your head. You're going to be okay."

I didn't realize I was crying until my vision blurred. I held on and didn't dare let go repeating that he'd be okay over and over while praying that he would be.

"Grandpa, he's not well!"

"Esther—"

"No! Don't _Esther_ me, Grandpa! Don't talk to me like I'm overacting! For the last five hours, I've watched as he whimpered in pain, confessed to a murder that happened over four hundred years ago and begged for death twice. He thinks he's the former prince of the Mughal Empire!" This was insane! Malachi was not sane, he needed medical treatment not to be writing books!

"He thinks he is because he is."

I froze. The pot of soup I was boiling bubbled up as I left it. My mind was trying to comprehend the madness coming out of my grandfather.

"I'm sorry, the reception is a little spotty… _what did you just say?"_

"Esther, Malachi isn't insane."

"He's just over four hundred years old?" Was I surrounded by lunatics? "I love paranormal fiction as much as the next person but this is going too far. What is he then? A vampire? A coffee-addicted, meat-loving, fang-less, four hundred and eighteen-year-old _Caucasian_ vampire who was once a prince in India? That's the story you're trying to sell me on?"

"I need you to be open-minded when I tell you this."

"Sure!" I turned off the stove and moved the pot to another burner. "I'm open, please go on I'll try not to turn into a bat and fly away."

"Are you done?"

I kept silent so he could talk though a part of me wondered if there was a two-for-one deal at the mental hospital.

"Now that you're silent I don't know how to explain this to you."

"Grandpa! I'm already on edge, you cannot make jokes—"

"I'm not joking. Malachi _is_ the former prince of the Mughal Empire." He repeated and it sounded no more believable than it did a minute ago.

"I have no words." In fact my brain wanted to kick open my skull and make an escape because apparently rational thought was no longer needed.

"It was hard for me to believe too." He coughed once and I heard what sounded like a beep but he spoke a little louder. "Esther, Malachi isn't just the prince of the Mughal Empire. He was once Romeo Montague to Juliet, Obinna the Great to Adaeze, Lancelot to Guinevere, Wei Xiao to Princess Changping—"

"Grandpa." I smiled only because I was so sure he was messing with me. "You're trying to tell me, that Malachi Lord, the romance novelist, is the reincarnation of all of the most tragic and iconic heroes in all of history?"

"Yes." Came the reply. But not from Grandpa.

I turned to see the very man…the tragic hero himself, leaning against the railing of the stairs. "Can I have some of that?" He nodded to the pot.

"He'll explain."

"Grandpa!" But he was gone leaving me with the man he'd just told me had lived five different times. Holding on to his side, he slumped towards me—no—towards the pot of food, and I stepped aside as I held the phone to my chest staring blankly at him as he took the spoon I'd been using to stir and filled the bowl until it was just barely overflowing. Putting the pot down, he lifted the bowl to his lips and drank deeply until there was nothing left but the rice, beef, and carrots. Then he turned to me, the circles around his eyes were still there but they weren't as dark as they'd been before.

"Do you mind if I finish this?" He pointed to the pot.

Without saying a word I nodded that he could go ahead. And he did. He poured the rest into the bowl, grabbed a spoon and slowly sat on the floor, this time using the spoon to feed himself.

"Is it okay?"

"It's horrible but I'm hungry," he replied stuffing his face again.

"Hey! You didn't have to eat it you jerk! Put it back if it's so horrible."

He snickered finally looking up from the bowl. "How are you going to make me when you're too scared to move?"

"I'm not scared."

"You circled around me slowly as if I were a monster you were trying to escape from."

"Sorry—"

"I'm not hurt. I'm actually relieved you have the sense to be wary of men like me." He stuck another bite into his mouth.

"I'm not sure if you're praising or insulting me," I replied as I slowly sat down opposite him.

"Both. Neither. I'm not sure either," he stated as he continued eating.

I sat in silence until he finished. He took a deep breath and said, "I don't know how to explain…Alfred is the only one who I've ever told and he didn't need much proof."

"Shame on him." I was going to need proof and whole lot of it. "My grandfather is a science-fiction and thriller type man. Me? I'm a diehard romantic. So you can't just tell me you were once Romeo Montague, _the_ Romeo of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ and just get an _oh-that-sounds-legit_ pass from me."

"I was not Romeo Montague, _the_ Romeo of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. William took liberties with our story. So did Arthur Brooke and before them both, Masuccio Salernitano. I was Romeo Montecchi of Verona and Juliet wasn't Juliet but Giulietta Capuleti in 1378. We did not get married but swore to. I tried to escape to Egypt but was told that Giulietta needed to see me at the church we promised ourselves at. I arrived only to be knifed. Giulietta did not kill herself but died of a heart attack when she came to church to try and warn me that it was a setup. Also, there was never a Rosaline, why William added her I will never understand."

I had to put my hand on my head because it felt like the world was spinning. Where was I supposed to start with that? From the least important—that being the fact he'd just called one of the greatest writers of all time _William_ as if he'd known him personally. Or should I start from the most important—that he'd just completely ruined the story for me!

"You…this… what…oh my god I don't know who's crazy anymore." I threw my hands up. "No that's a lie. I know I'm not crazy. Do you hear yourself?"

He sighed as he stood and moved towards the sink. Turning on the faucet he set his bowl down and reached for the pot too. It was only when I started to get up from the floor that he spoke again.

"I can't make you believe me. In all honesty, I wish Alfred hadn't told you. Do you think I want to be like this?" He paused as he squeezed the sponge tightly. "Do you know how painful it is to remember not only how you yourself died, but how the person you loved died?"

I said nothing and he continued to scrub the bowl harder. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine times, that is how many times I have felt myself die, have watched her die. And some days I can't breathe, I can't eat, and I fear that if I close my eyes I will fall into another memory and watch helplessly as everything falls apart! I'm tired! I am tired of living like this! I wish I were insane, I swear to you that I do because at least there would be some type of drug that could spare me this agony! Instead, I have coffee to keep me up at night! NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE TIMES I have loved her and it has only led to our death. So screw it! Screw love. Screw romance! I do not want it! I'll die alone in the woods before I go back to that again!"

The bowl shattered as he flung it into the sink. He gripped the edge of the counter and hung his head. Slowly I moved closer and placed my hands over his.

"I believe you and it's…sad," I whispered.

He glanced up at me. "It's worse than sad, it's a nightmare. I don't know why we are being punished like this—"

He gripped his head again.

"Another…memory?" I asked holding on to him quickly.

"I'm going to lie down," he whispered and pulled himself away from me.

I watched as he walked, broken, tired, and every bit miserable, back to the stairs. He climbed up one at a time as if the weight of the world were trying to pull him back down. When he was gone I turned to the broken bowl in the sink.

"I told you he was romantic," I whispered as I carefully picked up the pieces. Nine hundred and ninety-nine times he'd loved the same woman, the only woman in the world for him, his soulmate. It wasn't sad because they died. It was sad because he didn't seem to realize that she loved him back, all nine hundred and ninety-nine times, she'd loved him even though she knew it would kill them both and now he'd decided to reject her. That was the sad part.

 _Maybe they will find themselves again?_

 _Wait, do I really truly believe this?_

"Shit." I looked down to see that I'd cut my finger on a shard of the broken bowl. Sticking my finger into my mouth, I quickly threw the broken bits into the trash and finished cleaning up.

It didn't matter if I believed it. He believed it and he was mourning because of it.


	8. VII THE LAND OF THE LIVING

**VII. THE LAND OF THE LIVING**

 **MALACHI**

 _BEEP…_

 _BEEP…_

 _BEEP…_  
"What in the—"

"It's 8 a.m."

"Ah!" I hissed as the sun assaulted my eyes, forcing me to roll over. "Go away…" My voice trailed off as the smell of scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, French toast, and best of all, coffee, filled my nose. Opening my eyes I saw the food sitting on a tray right beside my face. I was so mesmerized by it that I didn't even notice her until she put a blue origami bear right next to the cutlery set she'd not only laid out but folded into a napkin.

"Sit up and eat before it gets cold," she stated as she rose from her place in front the tray and I saw her dark green leg warmers with the words _Lieber Falls_ written down the sides of them in white disappear into my bathroom.

"What hell are you doing?" I asked as I sat up and I was dismayed to find that it looked nothing like my bathroom. It was immaculate. I didn't think wood could shine and yet the floors of my bedroom were so perfect I was sure I could see my reflection. I glanced over to the side—

"Where are my paintings?!"

She popped her head back out my bathroom. "In the art room."

"Art room? What art room?"

"The empty room next to the guest room. I also unpacked the rest of the boxes there."

There was an attic…wait, no. "You can't just move my things—"

"And you can't just die." She snapped grabbing the trash from my bathroom and heading towards the door. "You are alive. You might _want_ to die. You might _feel_ like you're dying but you, Malachi Lord, are alive. And you are my responsibility. I didn't come here for a vacation. I came here because I promised my grandfather that I'd help you produce your best work yet. However, in the week I've been here you haven't written a single thing. You don't even know what day it is unless I tell you."

"I managed to write well enough and live perfectly fine—"

"What day is it?" she asked, her brown eyes staring at me. Her hair was pulled back into a thick curly ponytail.

"I don't need to answer to you. This is my house—"

"Nope." She pulled out her phone and read. "Property #283, Lieber Falls, Montana. Ownership: Penohxi Publishing House. Renter: Malachi Lord. I'm sending you the contract you obviously didn't read."

I heard my phone vibrate on the ground but didn't look at it as she continued with her commands.

"You do not own this home. My grandfather, the man who has looked out for you since you were a child, owns this home. So I won't let you treat it as badly as you treat yourself. The books you write, are also owned by Penohxi Publishing House, and maybe you don't care about your work. But I care. Millions of people care. And we promised them that you would have a new book next year. I confirmed it online. So if need to spoon-feed you, I will. If I need to carry you on my back, I will. Not for you. But for my Grandpa, and for all the women I've become friends with who are waiting on you. I'm not going to let them down!"

As she spoke her eyes teared up and I felt the urge to back away from her.

She wiped her eyes with the arm of her maroon sweater. "What are you looking at? Eat! Join the land of the living. I had to ride into town for that breakfast."

"You rode my bike?!"

"No. I bought a bicycle while you were trying to become one with your bed!" She hollered back. "And thanks for being grateful. I'm taking out the trash!"

She muttered something in a language I didn't understand as she exited. I stood there stunned for a moment before I slowly sank back into the middle of my bed. Reaching for the plate I took a bite of the bacon.

"Damn it." It was good…really good. I stuffed my face like a savage, eating the French toast in two bites before reaching for the fork before I once again noticed the blue watercolor origami bear.

 _Open me._

Carefully I opened it reading her ironically graceful handwriting in the center of the paper.

"Gavin's Law: Live to start. Start to live." ― Richie Norton." I read the quote before reading her instructions under his name. "Step One: Eat. Step Two: Shave and shower, please. Step Three: Dress comfortably for a walk."

Subconsciously I reached up and touched the growth of hair that had sprouted on my cheek.

Dropping the paper, I picked up my fork and ate quickly…a habit I couldn't break apparently. Why? I wasn't sure. But reaching for the coffee I drank it like I normally did but nearly gagged.

"What in the—"

"It's decaf." She walked back into my room like she owned the place…well, apparently she thought she did, though I'm sure Alfred probably didn't intend for her to use that fact over me. Since I could pick up and move at any time Alfred rented places out for me so there wouldn't be a paper trail in case I really wanted to disappear.

"It's not coffee if it's decaf."

"Coffee is not good for you."

"Living isn't good for me."

She made a face at me. "That because you're living wrong."

"Really? And what makes you an expert at living—"

"I've stepped outside." She sat in front of me and placed a water bottle on the tray. "You don't get to be an asshole because you're in pain. Everyone has been or is in some pain—"

"Not like this. You have no idea—"

"My mother tried to kill me when I five," she blurted out and I froze as she reached onto my plate and stole a piece of toast from me. "I don't remember it much, I've blocked it out. I just remember her telling me it was bath time, and when I got in she held me under the water."

"I…" I wasn't sure what to say to that.

She nodded slowly as she chewed then swallowed. "You know how…well you probably don't know, but the children of big time Hollywood people…some of them don't really do well when they grow up. Some say it's the pressure, others say it was all the money and no supervision. Drugs, drinking, partying…one day when she was seventeen she was raped. She didn't know by whom or how many. My grandfather was heartbroken and devoted his time to try and help her. He tried to find the men but they never did, and when she found out about me she wanted an abortion. She asked for money for the procedure but instead she used it to get high. She used me to get money out of my grandfather before I was even born."

She inhaled deeply and relaxed again. "I think she thought she could always just get rid of me but waited too long. When she gave birth she left me on top of my Grandpa's old Mercedes …right on top of the snow. My Grandfather named me Esther—the brightest star he'd ever seen—and relocated to New York, becoming my mom, my dad, and my grandfather.

"When I was five, my mother returned, she was clean, she really really tried to love me, but she couldn't heal, she resented me and she tried to kill me. My grandpa kicked her out and I haven't seen her since. But I love her. I forgive her. And I hope she's alright wherever she is…because I understand that my pain should not blind me from other people's pain. You're in pain, Malachi, but you aren't the only person on this planet suffering. No matter how many times it's happened, you don't get to say that no one hurts like you. That isn't fair. Anyway, I'll wait downstairs for you to get ready."

Reaching to take another piece of my toast I grabbed her arm. "If our pain is equal why should I have to give up my food?"

She pouted and I pouted back mocking her which caused her to laugh. "Fine, keep the toast. Tomorrow I'm getting double though."

"Tomorrow?" I looked up at her.

She stretched her back out and nodded. "Did you finish the book?"

"Has anyone told you that you're…" I paused.

"Oh…." She grinned and pointed at me. "You were going to call me annoying but you remembered my past and stopped yourself, right? Ah! So you do have a heart!"

Rising I took off my sweat pants. "Are you going to stay and watch too?"

She waved me off. "I'm going, I'm going. Not that you'd have any effect on me anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"I like my men a little more…fit…and, you know, not currently in a perpetual epic love saga with some other mystery woman.

"She isn't a mystery. She's your co-worker," I said as I walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

"No bloody way! Who is it, Malachi?"

"Sorry I can't hear you, a dictatorial woman is commanding that I eat, shave and shower."

"Don't forget to go for a walk."

"Go away, Esther!" I hollered at the door rolling my eyes even though she couldn't see me.

"If you think I'm letting this go you don't know me!" she yelled back.

I didn't know her though. Though her personality…reminded me of Alfred.

"Give, keep giving, be dedicated even when you don't have to," I muttered to myself as I examined the brand new razor and toothbrush she'd bought and placed out on top of a brand new, deep green towel set.

Both of them were…the only two people in my contact list. They were the only two who knew my secret…our secret.

ESTHER

"Athena? Piper? Mei-Ling?"

"For the last time, I am not telling you!" he yelled at me as we walked.

Ignoring him I tried to remember the names of my female co-workers…snapping my fingers I turned back to him. "Chioma, from sales."

He sighed. "Yes. Chioma, from sales. That's her. My long lost love."

"It's no fun when you give up." I frowned as I stuck my hands into my vest pocket and inhaled the cool, fresh air.

"Has anyone every told you that you're immature?"

"Yep." I paused turning back to him. "I tried growing up but no one told me how terrible it would be so I decided to stop aging after my twenty-third birthday."

I laughed as I hopped over the fallen moss covered tree and dusted off my hands. He hopped over it too though he did it much easier and gracefully than me which was kind of irritating. I mean yesterday he was hunched over in pain and now here he was leaping over things better than me.

"How exactly do you plan to do that?" he asked as he bent down to tie my boots while I stood there in shock. "That's been annoying me for the last ten minutes."

"Thank you…"

"So your plan is to stay in your twenties?"

I grinned and pointed at him.

"What?"

"You've lived nine hundred and ninety-nine times, right? Any chance you came across the fountain of youth in any of them?"

He'd looked genuinely interested in my plan until I said it aloud, it was then that he turned away from me and continued walking. "You're a lunatic."

"I'm a lunatic?" He couldn't be serious. "You are the one who claims to be living—"

"Claims? And here I thought you believed! You're all talk, Ms. Noëlle."

I wanted to kick him in the back of his knees but I glared at the back of his head instead, before I realized something.

"You don't even know where we're going, so why are you leading me?" I rushed to keep up with his pace but he stopped so suddenly that I nearly ran into him.

Turning slightly and his blue eyes narrowed at me. "I thought we were just walking so you could talk my ears off."

"Nope we are taking a shortcut, come on." I moved off the path and pushed the branches to the left and right of me carefully, while Mr. Giant fumbled through.

"You just got here, how do you have shortcuts…?" His voice trailed off as he stood at the edge of the forest clearing, and there, under the protection of the towering green trees, was a magenta lake of flowers that was so thick you couldn't see a single gap between them and so deep that they grew to my knees. It didn't matter the season, or even the weather, the magenta flowers which carpeted the ground stood high, bright, and proud.

"Esther?"

Upon hearing my name I looked up with a smile towards the old couple who were standing on the other side of the lake of flowers.

"Mrs. Yamauchi!" I waved, watching as she turned and pushed her husband's wheelchair towards the only break in the lake, a path she'd created so that she could take her husband in whenever she could. Turning to Malachi who was now looking to them confused I grabbed his arm and pulled him. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Without a word he allowed me to drag him over. I prayed he wasn't about to collapse again. _Please_ …he needed this more than anyone. The path Mrs. Yamauchi had created through the flowers only ran from her side of the field towards the center, meaning that Malachi and I had to walk through the knee-high magenta flowers, sadly damaging and messing up the field as we did. Mr. Yamauchi sat quietly as she pushed him forward. His white face was wrinkled as much as hers though he wore a few more age spots on his face and hands, which he kept folded in his lap. His pinstriped brown golf cap covered his silver-gray hair. Mrs. Yamauchi's matching pair was on her head too. Her salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun.

Letting go of Malachi I clasped my hands together as I bowed in greeting. "Ohayō!"

"Ohayō!" Mrs. Yamauchi laughed as she moved around her husband's chair to give me a hug. She broke away from me after a few seconds to look at Malachi. "And hello to you handsome."

I panicked hoping he wouldn't be his normal rude self, but to my surprise he clasped his hands like I did and bowed. "Ohayō gozaimasu."

He knows Japanese? Most people I'd met who didn't know the language either repeated what I said or said 'Konnichiwa,' even though that was more for saying good evening. _Ohayō_ or _Ohayō gozaimasu_ was for greeting people in the morning. She greeted him back, smiling kindly as she brought her husband closer towards us.

"Malachi Lord, meet Kikuko and Kosuke Yamauchi, future legends and the oldest couple of Lieber Falls."

"Who are you calling old? Oshaberi."

Malachi snickered and I turned to glare at the traitor as he pretended to think it over. "Oshaberi? A chatterbox? It fits."

"No one asked you."

"Sorry, Oshaberi." He smirked as he looked to them both. "It's a pleasure to meet the future legends and sweetest couple of Lieber Falls."

"I like you." She came over and hugged him which made Malachi stand as stiff as a board.

Crouching down beside Mr. Yamauchi I gently placed my brown hands over his wrinkled ones telling him in English, "I need back up. They will gang up on me if you don't come help."

He turned to face me, his black eyes were like dark caves. I could look in but I couldn't see in.

"Do I know you?" He spoke for the first time since we'd all met. But then he glanced up at Kikuko and Malachi asking again. "Do I know you all?"

Kikuko squeezed his shoulder and said, "Yes. I know you. You know me too. Just wait, it will come back to you."

He returned his gaze once more to the flowers, and Kikuko, who was not the least bit phased, pulled out a thick, dark colored blanket from the backpack that hung off the chair.

"I'll—"

Malachi took it from her. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"Right here is fine, thank you."

With a nod, he carefully put it down, ensuring that there wasn't even a wrinkle...because apparently he could think of other people. It was apparently only me who didn't matter.

"Esther?"

"Yes?" I looked back to her as she held out bento lunchbox for me. I stared at the clear containers. "No, you didn't—"

"Chopsticks or a fork?" She lifted them both, purposely cutting me off which meant she wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Chopsticks please." I gave in accepting them and the bottle of water she handed me. "I hope you're hungry, Malachi."

"Starving actually." He walked towards her and accepted the lunchbox and chopsticks.

"Esther, how can you let him starve?" Kikuko frowned at him as she gave him a bottle of water as well.

My mouth dropped open. "What? I'm not his…" I trailed off and she noticed him snickering at me.

"Nurse? Maid?" she asked, as she put a napkin around Mr. Yamauchi's neck, and gave him a spoon along with his food.

"I'm not his wife. Yet still I somehow ended up making him breakfast this morning."

"Somehow?" Malachi took off his shoes and left them at the edge of the blanket before he sat down. Which I would have given him credit for if he wasn't currently picking on me. "So you don't remember that no one asked you to barge into my room, force me out of bed and demand I eat this morning?"

"I _was_ asked. I was asked by my grandfather, remember? Can you believe it? Girls my age are getting giant teddy bears and twenty dozen roses. Me? I'm trying to keep a thirty-year-old man alive. Aigoo." I sighed tiredly.

"Thirty," Mr. Yamauchi whispered and I immediately stopped talking to hear him. "Good age. Thirty. Standing on the cliff."

He nodded to himself as he spooned a tiny rice ball into his mouth whilst looking out at the flowers. "I think I've been here before."

Kikuko smiled as she took off her shoes, and sat on the blanket by his legs as he went back into his mental haze. I followed suit and removed my shoes and sat down as well. I wanted to ask her something but Malachi cut me off.

"Why is thirty a good age if it's on a cliff?"

Kikuko took a deep breath and turned to me. "Can I tell him now?"

"Please do."

"I'm guessing based on the four lunches for the four of us that this meeting isn't a happenstance?" Malachi asked looked between us. "So what do you need to tell me?"

Kikuko's black eyes looked back at him. "Why Kosuke and I are the future legends of this town."

Giving her my full attention I eagerly waited for her to start. After all, when else would I get to see a real master rakugo? Long before theater, films, and even novels, there was rakugo—the art of storytelling. Everyone could tell a story, but very few people could _become_ one. Rakugos could act the part of dozens of characters making you believe that each and every one was a separate individual contained in one being.

 _Not anyone…but Kikuko Yamauchi._

* * *

Malachi and I is now up for pre-order on all book site!


End file.
